Smallville On The Island
by IolantheAlias
Summary: Clark, Chloe & others visit an island for an apparently innocuous reason, but conflicting plans of Lex, Lionel, Oliver, Martha, and themselves lead to an explosive situation where Clark exposes his secret when he saves the day once again.
1. You Want Me to Go Where?

_**Summary: Clark saves the day once again.**_

_**Chronology: Early Season Six, but for story purposes, Martha Kent is a U.S. Senator, the Fortress of Solitude is functional; Chloe does not know the true identity of the Green Arrow, and Clark and Lana are still quite awkward following their breakup of their romance. **_

_**Disclaimer: Thanks to Jerry Siegel, Joe Shuster, and the creators and portrayers of "Smallville" for letting me play in their universe.  
**_

"You want me to go _where_?" Clark asked Chloe incredulously. He looked away from the purplish sunset visible from the barn loft window to stare at her.

"To the 'Conference on Manufacturing and Information Technology for the Twenty-First Century' on Mackinac Island", she replied.

Clark ran a hand through his hair. "Among my many questions – where and why?"

Chloe gave him an impish smile. "Mackinac Island is in Lake Huron, between the Upper and Lower Peninsulas of the state of Michigan."

"I bet you had to research that", he retorted.

"Well, yes, but I found out it's a pretty nice vacation spot. And get this – we'll be up there for the Lilac Festival!"

"Gee whillikers! There's a thrill!" Clark said sarcastically. "Again, why?"

"Well, that's kind of a long story." Chloe sat down on the old sofa in the loft. "You ready?"

* * *

"I have to go _where_?" thought Oliver McQueen as he reviewed the decrypted message on his laptop. "Where the hell is Mackinac Island?" The question was rhetorical as the full focus of his attention was on the…interesting…news on his screen.

Oliver had worked hard to get information on Luthorcorp in general, and on Lionel and Lex Luthor specifically. He was a firm believer in "Know Your Enemy", and although he didn't specifically wish to be Lex's enemy, he knew very well that Lex considered him, Oliver, to be Lex's enemy.

_I saw what he is capable of_, Oliver thought. _He betrayed his best friend and basically killed him._ As ever, Oliver winced as he remembered the part he himself had played in Duncan (last name)'s death. _The guilt and responsibility will never go away; all I can do is try to do better in the future. _

He knew that Lex Luthor would never forgive him for seeing the true Lex, the Lex hidden beneath the mask. Although there had been a superficial camaraderie during their time at Excelsior Prep together, it was based on their mutual guilt and shame. Lex had gone on to fame and fortune, now the Chairman and CEO of Luthorcorp; he spent a healthy sum each year buying positive spin on his image and reputation. _He would hardly like the world to know of that little incident at Excelsior Prep, would he? _

After the incident, when Duncan's body had been carried away to a neurosurgical suite for several ultimately futile procedures, Oliver had looked in Lex's eyes and seen the hatred. Not only the hatred for Oliver, who had witnessed Lex at his worst, but the self-hatred. And Oliver knew that Lex couldn't stand that Oliver knew.

_That's why I devoted such effort to collecting information on Lex Luthor, to placing moles in Luthorcorp, to cultivating contacts in the corporate world and in less savory arenas. I've become his enemy and being the enemy of a Luthor is dangerous. _Then Oliver laughed out loud. _Bring on the vendetta! We'll see who's left standing at the end of the day!_

Reminiscences ending, he once again viewed the message. In carefully-composed, outwardly bland prose, it alerted him to a possible _worldshattering? Mindblowing? Heck, let's just call it "big"_ new technology or technological device which would be announced by Lex Luthor at the conference. Frustratingly, the new item was not described, implying that his contact at the Luthorcorp Research Lab found it too dangerous to even describe in a triple-encrypted, anonymized email.

_That's probably why my mole there has lasted so long in such a sensitivie position_, Oliver thought. _Luthorcorp is pretty paranoid about their research and they don't let petty legalities on surveilling and wiretapping bother them about keeping tabs on their workers. _He considered working for Luthorcorp Research Laboratories like the Roach Motel – you check in, you don't check out.

He absently did a few finger stretches and arm exercises as he considered his options. The data from his contact at LRL had a golden reliability rating – every previous message from this contact had panned out 100. The trouble was that more information was needed. The contact was extremely cautious and minimized the chance of exposure by not only encrypting and anonymizing, but by keeping the message short.

Oliver stared into space and considered his options. Slowly, a smile replaced his previous frown. "Chloe Sullivan", he said softly.

* * *

"You want to go _where_?" Pauline Kahn said dismissively.

"To the 'Conference on Manufacturing and Information Technology for the 21st Century'", Chloe said hopefully.

Kahn stared her in the face. "And the Daily Planet should send you to…to this place…"

"Mackinac Island", Chloe interjected helpfully.

"Wherever the hell that is", the editor snapped.

"Actually, it's in Lake Huron…"

"And why should you go when we're already sending Brad Roumpz from the Business Section and Pete Snell from the Political Section to cover this conference?" Kahn asked Chloe bitingly.

Chloe stared back, inwardly marshaling her courage. _This could be a great story and a step up for me_, she thought. "My sources have indicated that Luthorcorp will be introducing new technology at this conference, but so far no one has said exactly what this new technology is. The buzz is that's it's something really big, but no one seems to know all the details."

"No", Kahn said flatly.

"Ms Kahn, please think again. You know I'm a good writer –"

"Yeah, you can write obituaries with the best of them", the editor said cuttingly.

Chloe bit her lip and resumed her push. "Ms Kahn, I can't reveal my sources, but it's fair to say that some have inside knowledge of Luthorcorp. They've been more excited than I've ever heard them before. I really think there is something to this tip."

Kahn started to say something, then closed her mouth. A thoughtful expression crossed her face. After a short period (which seemed much longer to Chloe), she spoke.

"All right, Sullivan, I'll take a chance on you. You've come through before."

_Yes! _Chloe stood still but inwardly turned cartwheels. "All right, Ms Kahn, all I need is an expense voucher for transportation and lodging –"

"Wait a minute. We've spent our budget for this on sending Roumpz and Snell. Here's the deal, Sullivan – the Planet will continue to pay your _princely_ intern salary and you get to Mackinac on your own. Take it or leave it." The editor gave a satisfied smile with a hint of challenge underneath the smugness.

Chloe stood wide-eyed in shock for a moment. _That's not fair!_ She thought. For a moment, words jostled for exit at her lips. Then sober second thoughts came to her rescue. _I guess life isn't fair._

She saw the surprise in Pauline Kahn's eyes as she said, "Thank you, Ms Kahn. I'll take it."

Later, after Chloe went back downstairs, she considered her options. She wasn't going to back down. She didn't dare put anything more on her credit cards. How would she pay for airfare, hotel, meals? There was no way she could ask her father, who was just financially getting back on his feet after a long bout of unemployment, for any money. Unfortunately, her friends were much in the same situation as her, with little money to spare for extras. _Maybe Lana has some more 'pocket money' now that she's hanging out with Lex, but there's no way I can let any hint of this get back to Lex._ She even considered, for a very short time, asking Clark to use his super-speed to take her, but ditched the idea. _It's just wrong. I know he'd save me in a minute, and he helped the Toys for Tots at Christmas time, but I can't ask him to do something just to advance my career. That's pushing the friendship too far._

She mentally reviewed her friends, acquaintances, and contacts. Then a slow smile replaced her frown. "Oliver", she said musingly.

* * *

"You want me to go _where_?" Lex asked his father incredulously. The beautiful purplish clouds of the sunset could barely be seen through the office window blinds.

"Oh, Lex, don't be foolish", Lionel replied. "This conference on Mackinac Island has been on your planner for the past six months."

"I thought I would delegate it to you," Lex said dismissively.

Lionel frowned. "Lex, it's important that Luthorcorp have a presence there – that _both _of us be there. You know that the governors and senators from fourteen Midwestern states will be there, along with the chairmen and executives of the top one hundred corporations – "

"Yes. The movers and shakers," Lex said sardonically, confident in the knowledge that he was one of the biggest fish in the pond.

"It's important that we be seen, and make contacts – " Lionel continued.

"And keep tabs on our tame Congressmen, and make proper donations and promise a new plant and network with the local bigwigs and generally ensure that the right legislation gets passed or doesn't get passed."

Lionel watched Lex for a moment. "Oh, son. So cynical?" he asked sanctimoniously.

"A little too much truth?" Lex smiled.

Lionel smiled back. "You and I both know that Luthorcorp stands for good business practices and that we happily obey all relevant laws and regulations, in a shining example of good corporate citizenship."

"Right, Dad." Lex smiled again.

"By the way, I've heard rumors that you will be making an announcement about some new technology from the Information Technology Research Department?"

The smile left Lex's face as he mentally scrambled to assess what his father had heard and what he knew. "Just a new process to increase the efficiency of data transfer", he said sunnily.

"Oh, Lex, I've heard it's much more than that!" his father replied in a mock chiding voice. "I've heard comments such as _big, billion-dollar, outstanding._" Lionel stared Lex in the eye as he threw out provocative statements.

Lex kept his face expressionless. "Well, I suppose that this process might have hitherto unforeseen applications."

"Who's your lead researcher on that again?" Lionel probed. "You might want to give him a bonus."

"Don't worry about it, Dad, I'll make sure he's well compensated." A short pause. "Now, how are we getting to Mackinac Island?"

Lionel relaxed his intent posture as Lex changed the subject. "We'll take the Luthorcorp jet, of course. The conference is at the Grand Hotel, so we won't be staying at the vacation cottage on the West Bluff. We'll want to be in close proximity to the other attendees."

A faraway look came into Lex's eye. "It's been years since I was at the vacation cottage."

"I think the last time we were there, you were six." Lionel's voice was clipped.

"We were there with Mom –" Lex cut off. Another moment of awkward silence.

"Well, Dad, I've got a lot of work to do, and I'm sure you do too."

"Good-bye, Lex." Lionel left the office. Lex stared into space, momentarily cast back in time. He vaguely remembered blue skies, a deeper blue lake, and horses. Then he shook his head and applied himself to the day-to-day work of running Luthorcorp.

* * *

"You want me to go _where_?" Lana asked Lex that night at the mansion.

"Come on, Lana, you'll love it. I have to go to this," Lex assumed a pompous tone, " this 'Conference on Manufacturing and Information Technology for the 21st Century'," Lex went back to his normal tone, "and I was hoping you could go with me. I really think you'll like Mackinac Island."

Lana looked at Lex. He seemed more playful than she had seen him before.

"Why?"

"Because it's the 'truly all natural theme park of America. Limited to transportation of horse and buggy, bicycle or foot, surrounded by water, it has escaped the vast changes of time.'" Lex smiled as he read the tourist blurb.

Lana smiled too. "You seem excited about it."

"Well, I'm not really excited about the conference – just another opportunity to press the flesh and make political and business contacts – but I did go to Mackinac once when I was a kid. Did you know that no cars are allowed on the island? You have to get all your supplies carted in by horse."

Amusement washed over Lana as she considered all the supplies that a house would need (_I don't know what the mansion would need, but I know what the Talon went through every week!)_ and the thought of a horse-drawn UPS truck. _If they don't allow cars, though, I guess it wouldn't be a truck. _

Lex continued. "The conference is at the Grand Hotel" -- he turned once again into Pompous Lex Reading Important Tourist Information --"'named one of the Top 100 hotels in the world. The Grand Hotel welcomes you to a bygone era of old-world hospitality and charm.' Actually, Lana, it is a five-star hotel, and maybe we can spend a little time on the island after the conference, just the two of us, together."

"That sounds good, Lex."

"If you don't want to stay at the hotel, we have a vacation cottage on the West Bluffs."

Lana looked at him. "I'm sure the hotel will be fine." A pause. "Do you have vacation homes _everywhere_?"

"Only in all the best places." Lex smiled at her.

* * *

"We're going _where_?" Lois said incredulously to Martha Kent. The eastern-facing window in Martha's office showed darkness, the light of the sunset slowly fading in the west.

"Lois, you were the one that did all the scheduling to get us the time blocked off to go to this conference on Mackinac Island", Martha chided.

"Yeah, but that was eight months ago! I totally forgot about it and I never even knew where Mackinac Island really was!"

"Well, I'm not very familiar with it, either, but as the US Senator from Kansas, I'll get a chance to meet some of the most influential businesspeople of the Midwest."

"Are you still working on General Technologies to get them to invest in a plant in Topeka?"

"What I can do is very little, Lois, but I can make contacts and give encouragement."

"I think you underestimate yourself, Mrs. Kent. You have an "in" with the Luthors, and Oliver Queen supports you too. There's not much that they agree on."

"Well, Lois, I think we have to thank you for Oliver's support." Martha gave Lois a knowing smile.

"Ollie is a pretty nice guy…" Lois floundered. "No! We like each other, but he wouldn't support you unless he felt you were the real deal."

"Well, that's flattering," Martha said. "But let's get back to the topic here. We're going next week. Think about what you want to pack. Also please work on my agenda and get me information about the other attendees."

"Mrs Kent, there are two hundred people coming!"

"I'll highlight the ones that are most important for us."

Lois sighed at the thought of the work ahead. _Maybe I can get Chloe to do some of this research_, she thought. _What would I have to promise her in return?_

Her thoughts were interrupted by Martha. "At least you won't have to worry about making flight reservations."

"What?"

"Lionel Luthor has generously offered to fly us in on the Luthorcorp private jet."

"Mrs. Kent…"

"I know you have bad memories, Lois, but I really feel I must agree to his request."

"Why?"

Martha seemed momentarily at a loss. "Well…" she said slowly. "Campaign donations and influence. Lionel gave us a lot of help with the election, and it would be churlish to refuse his request at this time."

Lois couldn't help feeling that there was something else behind Martha's reasons, but she didn't pursue the topic.

She said brightly, "OK, Mrs. Kent, flying to Mackinac on the Luthorcorp jet." Privately she resolved to ask Oliver if he could arrange something else for her – she had disliked Lex Luthor ever since he called her a "muffin-peddling college dropout", got the creeps from Lionel Luthor, and had bad flashbacks of the horrible time when she had fallen into hypoxia-induced unconsciousness and the Luthorcorp jet had crashed. _I thought I'd put that Dark Thursday stuff behind me, but talking about flying in the Luthorcorp jet brings it all back._

* * *

The next day, Lois met with Chloe at the Daily Planet.

"What's up with my favorite chief of staff to Kansas' own U.S. Senator?" Chloe said playfully.

"The usual – two nights work to be done in one, trying to get everything buttoned down before we go off to the conference", Lois replied, sounding a little flustered and a lot irritated. "Chloe, can you do me a favor?"

"Always, Lois", Chloe said, all playfulness gone. The cousins always, but always, backed each other up.

"Help me with this research. Mrs. Kent needs to mingle with the bigwigs and I need to fill out my files on some of the people."

"Don't you already have files on most of them?"

"Yes, but there's going to be so many important people at this conference. I never thought that we'd be meeting some of them."

"Just a minute. Is this the 'Conference on Manufacturing and Information Technology for the 21st Century…"

"…to be held on Mackinac Island, Michigan? You've got it, cuz."

"Scuttlebutt is that a lot of corporations and politicians will be making important announcements. Is Oliver going?"

"Actually, I don't know yet – I haven't had a minute to call him lately. I've been so busy with senatorial stuff…"

"Well, Lois, here's the quid pro quo. I'll help you with this research job; you call Oliver and let me talk to him about this."

"Chloe…" Lois seemed a little reluctant.

"I'm not going to pin him down to a formal interview; I just want to meet with him and discuss it off the record."

"Chloe…I don't want to impose on his friendship…"

"I just want an introduction. I'll take it from there."

"Well, OK."

Lois passed Chloe the list of names. Chloe began running them through her computer. In the background, she heard Lois calling Oliver. For an unworthy moment, Chloe wished she had Clark's super-hearing so she could pick up on what Oliver was saying too. She tried to satisfy her curiosity by hearing Lois' end of the conversation.

"Hello, Ollie." Pause.

"I'm fine. Are you ok?" Pause.

"You know, Ollie, I'm here in Metropolis, and it's been a while since we were out to lunch together…" Pause.

"Yes, I like Thai food." Pause.

"Just one thing. I'm here at the Daily Planet with Chloe." Pause.

"Oh that's great! I know she likes Thai too!" Pause.

"OK, we'll wait for you at the back door in ten minutes." Lois ended the call.

"Well, cousin, I got you to lunch with us. It's up to you to work your wiles on Oliver."

Ten minutes later, Lois and Chloe were waiting at the back door of the Daily Planet, an entrance a lot more obscure and low-profile than the grand front doors. Chloe saw Oliver striding down the sidewalk towards them.

"Ollie!" Lois greeted Oliver with a hug and a short kiss.

"Miss Sullivan." Oliver extended his hand to Chloe.

"Mr. Queen", she replied, shaking his hand. She was impressed by the strength of his grip. _It's almost as strong as Clark's_, she thought.

"Please, call me Oliver. Lois has said so much about you I feel I know you already." He smiled.

"Only if you call me Chloe. And Lois has said so much about _you_ I feel the same." She smiled back.

"I thought we might go to Bangkok Express. It's only three blocks away, and the food is excellent."

"Sounds good to me – I'm pretty hungry", said Lois.

The three of them walked briskly through the crowded streets of downtown Metropolis, making small talk. Although it wasn't obvious, Chloe noticed that Oliver was very alert to his surroundings, keeping an eye on everyone that came near them, assessing them. She noticed that Lois and herself were doing the same. _I guess when you've been abducted or assaulted in the past, it makes you keep a little higher level of alertness. I wonder what's happened to Oliver? Or is this just a billionaire thing?_

They made it to the restaurant without incident, and after only a short wait, were seated. Over lemongrass soup, chicken satay, and pad Thai, they made leisurely conversation. It wasn't hard to steer the topic to the upcoming conference.

"Yes, I'm going. Queen Industries has to make an appearance, and it'll add some extra cachet if I go. Are you going, Lois? I know that Mrs. Kent is going, along with the other Kansas Senator. In fact, I've heard that fourteen Midwestern states are sending their Senators and Congresspeople."

"I'm going too, Ollie. It's my job to make sure things run smoothly for Mrs. Kent." Lois stirred her soup aimlessly.

"And Chloe, is the Daily Planet having a presence there?" Oliver gave Chloe a significant glance.

"Ah, yes, Oliver, the DP is sending two reporters – both politics and business. I wish I could go – I've heard that Luthorcorp will be making a big announcement." She said teasingly, "I won't ask you what Queen Industries will be announcing at the conference."

Oliver looked at Chloe again, searchingly. She squirmed a little in her chair at the intensity of his gaze. He assumed a joking tone. "Well, that's good, Chloe, because I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." The joke fell flat. Silence. He looked away, then spoke to Lois.

"You know, Lois, I was really hoping you could travel with me in the Queen Industries jet…"

"I'd love to!" Lois jumped on the offer like a starving wolf on a fresh steak. _Anything to get out of flying with creepy Lionel Luthor._ _And if I get to fly with Ollie, that's quite the bonus._

"Well, that's settled, then." Oliver changed the topic and spent the rest of the lunch talking about neutral subjects. He was quite a good storyteller, and soon had Chloe and Lois laughing with his anecdotes about foibles of corporate titans.

Lois picked up her purse and went to the restroom. Oliver leaned over and said, "Chloe, I was hoping that I could discuss something with you."

"Actually, I was hoping I could discuss something with you." Further conversation was cut off by the waitress bringing the check. Oliver took it as a matter of course; Chloe noticed that Oliver left a tip that was greater than the amount spent on the food.

Lois returned to the table and said, "Chloe, I've got to get back to the office. If you can work on those things for Mrs. Kent…" A significant glance at Chloe.

"Sure, Lois, I'd be glad to." Chloe fully intended to honor her bargain with Lois.

"I'll walk you back to the Capitol office building", offered Oliver. The three of them left the restaurant and ambled through the streets, replete with a good lunch and good conversation. After Lois left them to return to the Senate office building, Oliver and Chloe gave each other a short glance and began walking back to the Planet.

"I'll get right down to it, Chloe. I've heard the rumors about the Luthorcorp announcement, too, and I want you to investigate it for me."

_Well, this is not what I expected_, she thought. _It's falling right into my hands._ "Why?" she asked cautiously.

"You know that Lex and I don't get along." He smiled ruefully. "And you know it's a little dangerous to be on the wrong side of the Luthors."

It was her turn to smile ruefully. "It was by the grace of God that I got out…" she said softly. _And I think Clark has a lot to do with them leaving me alone right now. I wonder if he said anything to Lionel Luthor about what would happen if the Luthorsl tried to interfere with me again? Or if it's just implied? _"But Oliver, I'm not a private investigator. I'm a reporter. I'm an _intern_ reporter." They continued walking through the June sunshine.

He turned to face her. Chloe noticed that he had angled them against a building alcove so that his back was to the wall and he could see both ways and across the street. Facing him, her back was to the street, which made her nervous. She subtly moved, forcing him to re-angle his position, so they both ended up with one side to the wall, the other side out to the street. A panhandler approached them. Oliver gave a hard glance. The panhandler flinched and moved away.

"An intern reporter who knows Lex Luthor personally, who knows me personally, who knows a US Senator personally and very well. That kind of inside knowledge is invaluable to me. I have enough private investigators on the payroll. You're different."

"My first duty is to the Daily Planet…"

"I know, and I'm not asking you to do anything unethical. I propose a deal: I get you into the conference. You do what you would regularly do – investigate things. You write the story you would write anyway. But if I know anything, I know you'll find stuff that you won't be able to print. That's the stuff I want to know."

"I can't promise to tell you things that are told to me in confidence. I've got to protect my sources."

"I respect that, Chloe. All I ask is that you tell me everything of what you feel you can tell me. I trust your judgment. I trust you."

Chloe looked at Oliver for a long moment. Did she trust him in return? Her bullshit detector wasn't going off – it had developed a high level of sensitivity over her years working at the Torch and had been honed even sharper by the weirdos and flakes she had to deal with on the phones and in person at the Daily Planet.

Mentally she reviewed what Clark and Lois had said about Oliver. It sounded as if they trusted him, at least somewhat. _And I want to go to the conference. This sounds ideal._ But after her previous deal with a billionaire, she was a little leery of great-sounding deals.

"As long as it's understood that it's for this conference only, and that I'll only tell you what I feel I can tell you, ethically." She put a firm tone in her voice.

"I agree." He extended his hand and they shook on it. "There's one condition…"

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

"You take Clark Kent as your partner." Now he sounded firm.

"What? Clark?" Now she was incredulous. "Why?"

Oliver looked away, seemingly embarrassed. "I know what Lex Luthor is capable of. I know that Lois has self-defense skills – do you? I don't want you to get involved in a physical fracas. I figure Clark could be your bodyguard."

_Well, he'd sure be an excellent bodyguard._ "Do you really think Lex would stoop to physical violence?"

"I think he'd have his minions do it so his hands were clean." Oliver's voice was cold.

_You're right there. _"But Clark? He's busy on the farm."

"I can't think of a person who would be a better bodyguard", Oliver said. He looked Chloe straight in the eye.

_What does he know?_ Chloe asked herself, hypersensitive to any talk that possibly might be touching on Clark's secret. _The trouble with ambiguous statements like this is that you can't really get them to expound on it._ "Why do you say that?"

"Well, he's in good physical shape, and he's already got a part-time credential from the Daily Planet. I can pull some strings and get you both accredited at the conference and it won't look unusual."

"What about the farm?"

"I can get some hired hands to cover the work while you're away."

"Do you really think Clark will go for this?"

"I'll ask him to do it as a personal favor to me. It's always good to have a billionaire owing you a favor."

"That's generally true. But Clark is the last person to care about how much money a person has." Perversely, she found herself arguing against the thing she wanted to do.

"Yes. I respect Clark for that." Oliver turned away from her and resumed walking. "Chloe, I don't really expect anything to happen. But I've learned to prepare for the unexpected. Please go with Clark."

"All right." She conceded the point. _Besides, that means I get to spend some time with Clark, _a tempting little voice in her head said.

"Good." Oliver kept on walking. In his mind, at least, it was settled. "Expect a large envelope later on today."

She raised her eyebrows. "What?"

"I've got to give you some cash. It's better if Queen Industries isn't connected in any way with the travel reservations or hotel. We'll try to make everyone believe that the Daily Planet is bankrolling you. And you may need some untraceable money for, let's say, _influencing_ people."

* * *

"So you want me to go. Oliver Queen wants me to go. My mother would be happy if I go. Looks like I'm going." Clark sounded a little awed by the full-court press devoted to getting him to the conference.

"Actually, Clark, I was planning on going on my own, but Oliver made it a condition that I take you. He seemed a little odd about it. He made a point of emphasizing that you were in good physical shape. Do you think he knows anything about your abilities?"

Clark stood still for a moment, avoiding Chloe's gaze. "I don't think so", he said evenly.

_And I don't think you're being entirely truthful there, Clark,_ Chloe thought. _I recognize that tone of voice. I'll have to think about this._

Dropping the topic, she said, "Well, the plan is to fly from Metropolis to Chicago O'Hare. From there we take a commuter jet to Traverse City, Michigan, then rent a car and drive up to Mackinac Island."

"It'll be a little tough to _drive_ to an _island_", Clark said teasingly.

"Well, we drive to Mackinaw City on the mainland, then take the ferry to the island. Smartass."

* * *

"They wanted you to go _where_?" Saul Stein asked his lab partner and fellow researcher, Don Partridge. Actually, he knew already, but needed to induce conversation and this was a good topic.

"To Mackinac Island. I think it's somewhere in the Great Lakes. It was some conference. Of course I told them no. There's too much work to do in the lab." Don sounded distracted, as if he were mentally dissecting his research to-do list.

"Don. I think they meant it as an honor…" The waitress came by to take their drink orders. The moderately loud buzz of a happy hour crowd made them lean towards each other to hear better. In the background, a game show host on TV said, "Now that we've met our contestants, our categories are: "Opera Heroines"; "Treaties Throughout History"; "Chemical Elements"; "Cartoons"; and "Sherlock Holmes.""

Saul leaned nearer to Don and asked, "Have you thought about what I asked you?" He said it quietly, with no expression on his face.

"I still can't believe what you showed me, Saul", said Partridge. His expression was troubled. "But we've got all the equipment, and the software…"

"Don't worry about the equipment and the software", Saul said. "I can get that all arranged for you. I do know that even if you stay, I can't. I can't work for Luthorcorp anymore, not and retain my…my…integrity? My sanity? I don't think you'd be able to retain it, either, now that you know what I know."

Stein looked at his partner. He was still in awe at the sheer intellectual gifts that Partridge displayed. Saul knew himself to be good, but a plodder, one whose creative days had passed. Working with Don was like catching lightning in a bottle, being at the source of a fountain of ideas. He wondered if Mozart had worked with anyone, and if they had felt about Mozart the way he felt about Don.

In the background, the quiz show host read the question, "You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive." Partridge immediately said, "What were the first words that Sherlock Holmes said to Dr. Watson?" Saul looked at him and smiled – they shared a mutual appreciation of the Chronicles of the Great Detective.

That had been one of the things that helped them hit it off well right from the beginning. Saul Stein was a lifer at Luthorcorp – he had been there in the primitive computer days (_when we were dealing with the technological equivalent of stone knives and bearskins_) whereas Don Partridge had been there only a few years. Saul had worked his way up the Engineering and Information Technology ladder, helped by his encyclopedic knowledge of hardware, operating systems, software, and all things cybernetic/silicon/computer. He could program a firewall or solder a connection with equal facility.

Ten years ago his wife had died. They had never had children and Saul was left alone. He threw himself further into his work, and started poking around the Luthorcorp intranet. He kept himself up on all Luthorcorp projects, in his area of authority or not. For fun, and to test his hacking skills, he began looking into Lex and Lionel Luthor's semi-private files. He had found some things there that worried him. The worry grew as his curiosity could not be denied and he got deeper and deeper into the private files.

A few years ago, his faith in Luthorcorp had been badly shaken with the whole Sullivan incident. Saul had done some work at the Smallville plant, and had liked and respected the plant manager, Gabe Sullivan. They had gotten to know each other well, and Gabe had even had him over for dinner a few times. Saul had met Gabe's daughter Chloe, and had been entranced by her fire and drive. He wished that he and Laura had been able to have children and that they could have had a daughter like Chloe.

It was a shock to hear that Gabe had been fired for gross incompetence. He had done some quiet investigating and knew the charges were smoke and mirrors, but not why. Then, some time later, when Chloe testified at Lionel Luthor's murder indictment, he realized why. He accelerated his investigative efforts, but it was not totally a surprise when Gabe and Chloe were apparently killed in a safe-house explosion (_how convenient for Lionel Luthor)_, he thought resignedly. Their miraculous reappearance a few months later had not diminished the nagging feeling that something was rotten underneath. The thought that Lionel Luthor would betray his own workers in such a manner fractured the foundation of Saul's loyalty.

Ever since then, he had been, oh so carefully, snooping around and finding out much more than the Luthors would want him to know. As he learned more, he got more…scared? (_Let's just call it…nervous) _about what would happen to him if Lionel or Lex found out about his unauthorized data mining. Last year, purely by chance, he had seen Chloe at a Metropolis diner. They joined each other for lunch and he found that she was now an intern at the Daily Planet. He had given a metaphorical sigh of relief and since then, had been feeding her deep background material on various ethically dubious Luthorcorp projects. He was very careful about what he gave her, and insisted that she be careful about what she wrote and what she stored on her laptop. If some of the information got out, it would lead right to him. Fortunately, Chloe had dealt with the Luthors before, and had a good appreciation of the need for airtight operational security. _That girl is good at keeping secrets_, Saul thought.

The waitress brought his beer, and a orange-cranberry juice for Don. In the background, the host asked the contestant, "This treaty, signed in 1918, marked the exit of Russia from World War I." Both Saul and Don said, "What is the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk?" They looked at each other and laughed.

Don said, "Moving away from everything is hard for me." He sounded semi-reluctant, as if he knew he was going to move, but dreaded the moving process itself.

Saul replied, "Don, you know it's the right thing to do." He swallowed. "Did I ever tell you about the time my father beat me?"

Don's eyes widened. "No."

Saul took a sip of beer before replying. He looked at the game show continuing on the TV. The game show host said, "She sings of her determination to be "always free", '_sempre libera'_, from her love, but ends up with Alfredo anyway." Saul murmured, "Who is Violetta from Verdi's _La Traviata_?" Then he got down to business.

"I was about eight years old. My father caught me writing a number on my wrist – I just wanted to be like him. He exploded in anger and beat me. I didn't know why at the time, but then he told me what that number signified." Thinking about it later on, he realized this explained why he had no relatives, why his father sometimes stayed up all night, and why his parents' marriage had been fraught with significant silences.

He leaned in closer to Don and spoke even more softly. "You know I've been able to search the Luthorcorp computer system more so than the average person – in fact, I did a lot of the security programming myself. You know what I showed you is true."

How true it was gave him chills. He had penetrated the deepest security yet and what he found almost made him vomit. It was data on humans – human experimentation! – humans kept prisoner on a secret floor, Level 33.1.

The data on their supposed 'powers' was certainly interesting, but he felt dirty, soiled in reading it, as if he were complicit in the gross violation of ethics committed in getting that data. He grew angry at himself for his loyalty for so long, to a corporation that would do things like this. At that moment, he knew that he could not stay at Luthorcorp. He would stay as long as it took to get airtight proof, then he would take the proof to Chloe and she would print it in the Daily Planet.

His superiors at Luthorcorp, not knowing of his extracurricular activities, had teamed him with Don Partridge two years ago. Don was a sparkling fizz, an electric arc. He had had some ideas about computer theory and design, and Saul would be the hands-on partner. Don could barely make coffee without dropping the pot, but he could describe his visions so that Saul could turn them into reality, or at least a prototype. After one particularly elegant idea had made Luthorcorp over one hundred million dollars in the first year alone, Don had carte blanche. He could ask for, and get, any equipment, lab space, research assistants, whatever he wanted. Fortunately for Saul, Don seemed to be mostly at home in his own head, and only occasionally wanted new items. He was happy in their lab and he was happy working with Saul.

Another "Jeopardy" question roused Saul from his reverie. "Sherlock Holmes' archnemesis Professor Moriarty wrote a treatise on this that only a few in Europe could understand." Saul and Don looked at each other and chorused, "What is the binomial theorem?"

Saul turned to Don and said, "I've got it worked out. You make sure the files in your laptop are up to date. I'll get the prototypes. We'll walk out of Luthorcorp. I've been speaking with Oliver Queen. He's got a lab all set up for you in Star City. Just don't say anything to anyone." He didn't say anything to Don about the virus program that would delete all copies of Don's data and experimental files on all Luthorcorp platforms.

Don said, "Can't I say goodbye to Doris and Stacey and the other transcriptionists?"

Saul said flatly, "No. It's better this way. Trust me. You can send them a card after." He didn't want to alarm Don, but he had found that a disturbing number of ex-Luthorcorp researchers had suffered accidents ranging from the inconveniencing to the (in one case, at least) fatal. Given that Don Partridge's ideas were solely responsible for a full two percent of Luthorcorp's profits last year, Saul had a feeling that Luthorcorp would be _extremely sorry_ to see him go. _I get the feeling that Lionel Luthor has a 'dog in the manger' attitude.. _

It was best to get out while they could and let Oliver Queen handle the security. Saul had reviewed some of the arrangements; although he was no security man, he had developed some knowledge in his years at Luthorcorp. Saul had researched Lex and Lionel Luthor's pasts carefully, and had made note of the unfriendship between the Luthors and Oliver Queen. Figuring that _the enemy of my enemy is my friend, _and knowing he would need a protector of equal clout, he had made contact with Oliver. Saul had met Oliver only twice, under carefully screened and controlled conditions, but had gotten a good vibe from him, certainly better than the queasy feeling he got around Lex Luthor.

The legalities were not an issue. Saul had reviewed Don's contract. The noncompete clause had expired last year, and had not been renewed. Saul wasn't sure if this was an error on the part of the Luthorcorp lawyers (if they were just counting on Don being so happy in his well-equipped lab) or if Don had just never gotten around to signing the contract extension. Legally, Don was able to resign at any time, and Saul was too. On the other hand, if Luthorcorp had wished to fire either of them, Luthorcorp could have done so, giving them one month's pay in lieu of notice. Don, of course, was clueless as to the finer points of his contract. Saul felt like an older brother _(a much older brother)_ whose job it was to guide Don through the thorny thickets of the real world, leaving Don to focus his awesome brainpower on the big theoretical questions.

He looked at the TV. "This treaty ended the Thirty Years War." Saul murmured, "What was the Peace of Westphalia?"

He turned his attention back to Don. "Are you ok? The plan is to leave tomorrow evening. We'll get everything ready and go together."

Don sat up straighter. "I'm ok with that, Saul." Determination was in his voice. To his credit, once Saul had shown him the information on Level 33.1, Don was just as horrified as Saul was. It was with difficulty that Saul had restrained him from storming into the executive suites. Fortunately, Saul had ensured that the conversation had taken place well away from Luthorcorp in a dark and smoky bar. In fact, he tried to keep all their significant conversations well away from Luthorcorp, and never in the same place twice. He didn't know about surveillance in their lab, but assumed it was there.

"OK, it's a go then. Just follow my lead tomorrow." Saul drained the last of his beer and got up to go. "I'll take you to your apartment."

Don said, "Saul, just take me back to the lab. I've got a new idea on the prototype." His eyes were already glazing over as he turned inward, mentally testing theories. "I think there might be another application…something else might happen when if we test the prototype in a slightly different manner…" Saul knew he'd get nothing else coherent out of Don all night.

As he ushered Don out to the parking lot, Saul muttered to himself, "That's OK, Don. I've got other plans tonight." _I'm going to talk with Chloe Sullivan. _

On the TV, the host said, "This absorbent, yellow, and porous cartoon character lives in a pineapple under the sea." Saul and Don shared a mutual blank glance. Neither knew the answer.


	2. Meeting With An Old Friend

Chloe spent the afternoon making plans. It would look strange for two young ink-stained wretches from the Fourth Estate having the dollars to spend at a luxury hotel, so she made reservations at the more modestly priced Murray Hotel on Mackinac Island. Due to the lateness of her reservation and the tourist-attracting Lilac Festival, there was only one room left. _Looks like Clark and I will have to share_, she thought, amused. She wasn't sure what he would think about it, but she wasn't telling him until he got there.

She arranged flights and a rental car. Ferry tickets would be bought at the pier. She called Clark. "Are you packed? We leave tomorrow morning. I've got everything arranged."

"Yeah. I've been going over the farm stuff with the hired hands that you-know-who sent."

Chloe lowered her voice. "Do you know if they wonder how you keep up on all the farm work?"

"I just told them that I'm the owner of the farm and that I'm extremely motivated." Clark laughed.

Chloe laughed too. "OK, meet me at Metropolis Airport tomorrow morning at 5:00 a.m."

"I'll be there", Clark assured her.

At the upscale bar where Chloe met Saul Stein for dinner, the lights were dim and the portions artfully presented. The meeting of a fashionably dressed young woman and a grizzled business-suited man old enough to be her father raised no eyebrows.

They greeted each other and sat down. Scanning the menu quickly, they ordered drinks and food.

Chloe broke the ice first. "Saul", she said, "I've been hearing rumors about some big new thing at Luthorcorp Labs. Can you tell me anything about it?"

"That's my Chloe", Saul said. He was impressed by her information-gathering skills, as he had done his best to keep the rumors quiet. _Well, that's over now_, he thought. _I'm not in Luthorcorp electronic security after tomorrow night. _

"What have you heard?" he parried.

"Nothing specific, Saul", she replied. "Just rumors of something really big."

"It is big, Chloe. Are you ready to hear it?"

Her eyes widened. Obviously she wasn't used to sources confiding in her this easily. She recovered quickly, reaching for her voice recorder.

"No recordings", Saul said harshly. "This is background only."

"OK." She put the recorder away. "Whatever you feel you can tell me."

Saul fidgeted in his chair. It was hard to talk openly after years of secrecy. "Did you ever watch the original "Star Trek" TV show?"

She seemed unfazed at this apparent non sequitur. "Yeah. They had cheesy special effects, but the ideas were great. I saw a TV special not too long ago where they said that "Star Trek" invented the future. Everybody saw Captain Kirk calling the ship on his communicator – and thirty years later, lo and behold, we're all carrying cell phones. They even flip open like the communicators."

Saul smiled. "Actually, I was one of the people who was inspired by that show." He paused to take a drink of water. "Unfortunately, I'm not one of the people that's smart enough to actually make these new things – but a guy in my lab is." He stared at her.

"Um…" she said, at a loss for words.

"Chloe, do you know why the "Star Trek" shuttlecraft didn't appear till the second season?"

"I read once that they didn't have enough money to build it till then."

"So how did they get Kirk and Spock and all the doomed-to-die red-shirt security guys down to the planets where the story would happen?"

"They used the transporter beam…" her voice tailed off. Chloe momentarily had a 'connect-the-dots' expression on her face. She looked at him in excitement. "Do you mean you've invented the transporter?" Her voice was high.

"No. Well, maybe. We have, that is, Don has, worked out a device that uses some quantum thing that I don't understand. Frankly, I don't think anybody but Don understands it."

"Don?"

"Don Partridge; I work in his lab now. Chloe, he's the smartest guy I've ever met."

"The device?"

"It has two parts. There's a main box. And there's a, a 'receiver tag', for lack of a better term. "

"And?" Chloe snapped. She was getting tired of extracting information out of him question by question.

"You press the button on the main box. Any matter within a certain radius of the box apparently…teleports…to the receiver tag." He sat back in his chair.

Incredulity washed over her face. "Really?" she asked.

"Really." A flat statement. He looked at her. She was obviously awash with questions.

"We haven't tried it with anything living yet. At first we had trouble with the field, getting it to stay, um, open, enough to _transport_ the item. Now we've got it figured out how to keep the field up for the short but measurable time it takes to 'beam things up.'"

Chloe looked intent. "Does the stuff transport ok? It doesn't turn things inside out, does it? And what about rematerializing things inside other things? Those episodes where they used that for a plot device really gave me the creeps."

Saul laughed. "It's ok. Stuff looks the same coming out as it did going, down to the electron microscope level. We wondered about the rematerializing thing too, but it hasn't happened; Don is still working out the theory but he thinks it won't be possible. You won't be able to materialize inside a solid object; you'll go to the nearest area of atmosphere and push the air molecules away, or go to vacuum where the molecular density is so low it won't matter."

"That's reassuring." He could tell from her expression that she had thought of something else.

"What does this transporter beam run on? Did you invent dilithium crystals too?"

Saul sighed. "Interesting you should bring that up. The radius of the field depends on the energy density of our power source. Right now we've got it to about twenty-five feet."

Chloe made a 'go-on' gesture. "Power source?" she asked.

Saul sighed. "That's a sore spot. Let's just say that it's not as difficult to

get nuclear isotopes and plutonium as you might think."

"_What_?"

"Although it's pretty expensive."

She paled. "Nuclear isotopes?_ Plutonium?_"

"Chloe, it's all been legal…so far. But I won't deny that Luthorcorp has influenced the Nuclear Regulatory Commission."

"There are _plutonium nuclear isotopes_ at your lab here in Metropolis?"

"Chloe. Get over it. We are very, very careful. I'm more worried about the meteor rock—"

"Meteor rock?" Now she looked even more worried.

"None of the stuff worked till we mixed meteor rock in with the isotopes. Did you know that stuff is amazing? Don thinks it contains some sort of rare transuranic element. If he weren't so busy on the transporter beam, he'd be looking into that full time." Saul took another sip of water. "Besides, from what I've seen, Luthorcorp has some other teams looking into the meteor rock."

"Saul, I'd advise you and him to stay away from the meteor rock", she said urgently.

"Don't worry about that, Chloe", he said reassuringly. "When it's in our lab, we treat it with the same precautions we use for the nuke stuff." He looked at her. She didn't look very reassured.

Then she shook her head, straightened her shoulders, and looked directly at him. "OK, Saul, I think you're playing with fire here. I've seen some really weird stuff go down around the meteor rocks. And let's not even talk about the plutonium." She sounded incredulous. "Plutonium."

Saul looked at her. She seemed deadly serious. He paid her the compliment of being serious back. "Chloe, we don't have much of it. We've only had a little bit that's been fueling our experiments. We have only one prototype. It seems to take quite a bit of energy to generate and maintain this field."

"Oh?"

"One very interesting thing – it seems as if by using the meteor rock and the isotopes to generate and maintain the field, the isotopes become non-radioactive. In fact, they're transmuted to their end product. It's like they've completed their decay process in minutes instead of centuries – or millennia."

Chloe looked stunned. She obviously understood the implications. "That would mean…"

"This process has implications for treating nuclear waste."

"Wow!" 

"What's one of the biggest drawbacks to nuclear power? Why doesn't anybody want a nuclear power plant in their neighborhood?"

"Because of the waste and contamination issues. Remember Chernobyl?" She thought of the news reports of dead firefighters, hectares of contaminated farmlands, cancer incidence skyrocketing in the Ukraine.

"This has a chance to solve that problem." He sat up straighter.

"How can it be?" Chloe said incredulously.

"I don't fully understand it. Don thinks the field has something to do with the manipulation of time along with space, which I guess makes sense, because all the physics giants say that space and time are connected."

"That is big news. That is _huge_ news."

"I think Lex Luthor is going to announce some of it at the conference. You heard about the conference, didn't you?"

Chloe nodded.

"I think he's only going to focus on the nuclear waste disposal aspect. The transporter beam still sounds too Star-Trekkish. Besides, we don't have all the bugs out of that yet."

"Bugs?"

"Don's really the only person who understands the whole thing. I get a little bit of it, but when he goes into n-dimensional quantum theory and wormholes, I fall off the turnip truck. He keeps on tweaking it. We've got one prototype made. I'm the hardware guy; he's the theory and idea man. In fact, I was just out for a drink with him, and took him back to the lab. I think he was having some more ideas…"

"Who is he? Einstein?" she said sarcastically.

"That's no joke, Chloe." He said very seriously. "Lex is making the announcement at the conference. And I want to rain on his parade."

Silence for a moment. They looked at each other.

"How's your Dad, Chloe?" Saul asked casually, as he took a bite of his burger.

"He's in England right now, getting the Wolverhampton plant running for Queen Industries", replied Chloe. "But I think you already knew that."

"I did", Saul admitted. "I was just wondering how he likes working for Queen Industries."

"At this point, I think he was grateful to get any job. But I think he likes this one, from what he tells me in his calls and e-mails."

"Chloe, your father is a good man."

"So good that Lionel Luthor blacklisted him and he couldn't get a job in this country", she said bitterly. That still rankled. _And I still wonder if he's still a pawn in the billionaires' chess game._

"Chloe, I think you know my feelings about his firing and the …subsequent events."

_That's a polite way of describing our apparent deaths_, Chloe thought, _and the whole grand jury – murder trial thing._

Saul continued. "That's what started me investigating…things." Chloe looked up in surprise. "And I found out a lot. Maybe some of it I didn't really want to know," he sounded grim, "but I know now."

"You never told me that before."

"Well, I'm telling you now. There's a lot I want to tell you tonight." Saul looked around and lowered his voice. "I'm getting out."

"Out?"

"Out of Luthorcorp. I think you've seen enough of the Luthors to know why."

Chloe agreed. "Both in person and from the information you've sent me." She swallowed. "But I'm the first to know it's hard to escape from the Luthorcorp clutches."

"Chloe, I have information that will, let's say, seriously _embarrass_ the Luthors when it comes out. I'm counting on you to be my pipeline. It's in an encrypted file that I've e-mailed to you. I'm not exactly sure when you'll get it because the anonymizer puts in a random delay before forwarding. It'll be from "An Old Friend.""

Chloe smiled uncertainly.

"You won't be able to decrypt it without the password. I wanted to tell you the password tonight", Saul continued.

"Password?"

"I think you'll appreciate this one. It's a phrase. The phrase is: 'In order for evil to triumph, it is only necessary that good men do nothing', with the digits 33.1, that's thirty-three point one, put in after the word "triumph". Spell the phrase with normal spaces between words, but don't put a space between "triumph" and '33.1'. Put a period at the end of the phrase."

She stared at him, momentarily silenced.

Saul continued. "I want to get out. I want Don out of there. I don't want the Luthors profiting from his research. He's too good of a guy to invent a powerful tool that the Luthors will corrupt. I know what they're like now."

Playing devil's advocate, Chloe said, "What about intellectual property? Can't they claim it was done on their time and that they own the idea?"

Saul smiled. "Let's just say, that by the time I'm done with the computer files, it will look like Don has been spending his time on something totally different, something that uses nuclear isotopes and meteor rocks, but something that is an enormous bust." He leaned back in his chair, smiling. "Meanwhile, we'll have the only copy of the information and we'll be on our way to Oliver Queen and Queen Industries."

"You'd better be very careful, Saul", she warned him.

The smile left his face. "I know that, Chloe", he said wearily. "I think I've taken precautions. I guess you can never be sure."

"I hope that things work out, Saul", she said gently. "Good luck." They ate the rest of their dinners in silence.

As they walked out the door together, Saul felt twitchy. The long summer evening had faded into darkness. The streetlights gave only limited illumination, leaving large portions of the avenue in darkness, their light blocked even more by the thick summer foliage of the trees planted at intervals along the sidewalks.

"Chloe, how did you get here?"

"I walked from the Daily Planet. It's only five blocks."

"You're taking a taxi home."

She gave him a searching glance, then nodded. "You have a feeling?" she said quietly.

"Yes." He had learned long ago to trust his gut.

"A taxi to the Daily Planet parking lot? Or home?" he asked her.

"Home", she replied. He hailed a cab, and put a twenty-dollar bill into her hand.

As she prepared to climb into the car's interior, she hugged him. "You be careful, too, Saul", she said. "Pay attention to those feelings. And thank you for the information."

"Chloe, I know you'll do the right thing with it. Make me proud." As the taxi drove off, her last glimpse was him standing in the evening gloom, tall and straight, looking around.

Saul slowly walked back to his car in the restaurant parking lot. The twitchy feeling remained. He expected a hand on his shoulder, or a outwardly friendly greeting, or perhaps even a physical attack. None of it happened. He drove home slowly, disquieted. _I think I'm being watched._


	3. Flight

When the Luthorcorp driver came to pick up Martha Kent, she was just finishing baking some cookies for the hired hands.

"Clark has told you what to do? Are you clear on everything?"

The four men nodded.

"Be sure to feed Shelby. His dog food is in the barn. I've stopped the mail and the newspapers so you don't have to worry about that. You have my cell number and Clark's cell number too. Be sure to call us if there are any problems or concerns."

"We're OK, Mrs. Kent." The self-appointed leader of the four seemed more interested in the steaming chocolate chip cookies than in her words. She wordlessly piled a plate with the entire batch and handed it to the workers. They smiled, barely making it outside before grabbing a handful each.

She took off her apron and hung it up, then headed upstairs for a final freshening. She came back downstairs and did a final run-through on the house, making sure everything was all set for her and Clark's absence.

"Senator Kent?" A uniformed driver knocked at her door. "Are you ready to go?"

"Brian! Good to see you again!" Martha said. "How's the family doing? Did your daughter get into Metropolis U?"

The driver smiled. "Thank you, Mrs. Kent. Yes, Linda got accepted and she's looking forward to it. She hasn't decided on a major yet." He picked up her suitcase.

"Well, if she needs any financial support – I'm sure I can put in a good word for her to any scholarship committees." They walked to the car.

The driver said softly, "That's very good of you, Senator. That means a lot to us."

"Just let me know if you want a recommendation letter or a personal word."

"Thanks again." The driver seemed embarrassed. Martha quickly turned the conversation into less personal channels, and they chatted briskly all the way to the Luthor mansion. From there, a helicopter took them to the jet at the Metropolis International Airport.

Martha boarded the jet. As ever, the luxurious paneling, comfortable seating, and roomy tables gave her a somewhat nervous feeling. _Am I getting in too deep with Lionel?_

"Martha! Good to see you!" Lionel came over and clasped her hands. "I'm so glad you could fly with us today."

"I'm very glad that you made the offer. It certainly saved me a lot of time, Lionel", she replied evenly. She stepped back from him.

"And how is Clark?" he asked. Whenever he talked about Clark, he got a knowing look in his eye. _I know his secret_, the look said to Martha.

"Clark is fine", she said shortly, not wanting to talk about her son to Lionel. It was too easy to go off-topic, too easy to say too much. She knew that Lionel knew a lot, but wasn't sure if he knew everything. If he didn't know everything, she wanted to keep him from learning more.

"I hope that you are going to have…a good time…at this conference", he said.

"Well, if you count meeting and greeting, and trying to get people to invest in Kansas…" she said, a little ruefully. He smiled in return, understanding her.

"Martha, you're in politics now. That's what it's all about." He ushered her to a leather-clad seat. "Lex and I will be doing much the same thing."

"Lex?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you? Lex is flying with us. And I heard him say something about bringing Miss Lang."

Martha was stunned. She hadn't spoken to Lex since Jonathan's funeral, and only two words. (_Thank you_, when Lex had said something about respecting Jonathan despite their political differences, and he was sorry about Jonathan's passing.) She still blamed Lex for the stress of the campaign, feeling it was the cause of Jonathan's fatal heart attack. _Oh Martha, you should know that when it's your time, it's your time. You have to learn to forgive and move on._ But it was hard. She missed Jonathan every day. Unconsciously, she leaned away from Lionel Luthor.

At that moment, Lana stepped into the jet. She had her head turned behind her, laughing with Lex at something. Then she looked at Martha and the smile left her face. Lex came up behind her and said, "Lana? Are you ok?" He saw Martha then, and had a slight expression of consternation before smoothing his face into its usual bland stillness.

"Mrs Kent." He said flatly. "I didn't know you were going to be flying with us today."

"Vice versa for me", she said. Next to her, she caught Lionel giving a self-satisfied smirk.

"But of course you're welcome", Lex said, recovering. Lana still hadn't said anything. "It's good to see you."

"Thank you, Lex", Martha said evenly. They shook hands. Lex moved towards the front of the jet, leaving Lana facing Martha.

"Hello, Mrs. Kent", Lana said quietly. She shook Martha's hand too.

"Hello, Lana." An uncomfortable silence. Martha thought of Clark's long relationship with Lana, the up and downs of their romance. She had often hoped that the two of them could be married, and in her most extreme fantasies, had thought about grandchildren. But when Clark had confessed to her that he felt that he could not tell Lana his secret, she realized that it was not to be. She had slowly come to accept that the two of them could not be together.

She was a little angry that Lana had gone to Lex so quickly after breaking up with Clark. Then she thought, _Martha Kent, what's really bothering you is what you yourself are doing with Lionel. You're attracted to him, and your husband hasn't been dead a year yet. _As ever, there was a pang of grief at the thought of Jonathan. _Don't blame Lana for something that you are doing yourself._

Martha forced herself to smile. "I'm glad to see you, Lana", she said softly. "I was hoping that we could talk on the flight."

Lana gave a hesitant smile in return. "I'd like that, Mrs. Kent", she replied.

Takeoff preparations interrupted further conversation; the plane's occupants buckled themselves in. As the jet lifted off, Martha noticed that Lana's knuckles were white, clenched on the seat arms.

"I get nervous flying", Lana said apologetically, catching Martha gazing at her hands.

"I can sympathize", Martha replied. As the jet leveled off into cruising altitude, Lionel said, "Martha, I hope you will excuse Lex and myself; we have a lot of work to get through before we get to the conference."

"Of course, Lionel."

The two men moved to the front of the cabin. Lex opened his laptop, Lionel his briefcase. Lionel pulled out a sheaf of papers and spread them on the table, and began talking in a low voice. Lex tapped the keys on his laptop at intervals, obviously reviewing topics suggested by Lionel's study of the papers.

Lana and Martha sat in uncomfortable silence for a few moments; Martha made up her mind to say something, but a flight attendant bustled in. "Coffee? Tea?" the attendant asked.

"Just water", Lana said.

"Tea for me", added Martha.

Their gaze followed the flight attendant, who went to a small galley at the rear, soon returning with beverages and a plate of croissants, pastries, and butter and jam. The attendant then brought coffee to Lex and Lionel, who obviously both had a standing order.

As the attendant returned to the galley, closing the door, Martha said to Lana, "How are you feeling, Lana?" Privately she thought that Lana looked haggard, circles under her eyes, and too thin.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Kent", Lana said in a patently social tone. "And you?"

"I'm doing well, too." Silence. "Of course, I miss Jonathan."

Lana impulsively reached out and touched Martha's hand. "I know it must be difficult for you. Mr. Kent was such a fine man…" She trailed off as Martha sniffed, obviously close to tears.

"I'm sorry, Lana. Every once in a while, it just hits me again. Sometimes I find myself thinking, _I've got to tell that to Jonathan_, and then it's a shock when I realize he's gone."

"Mrs. Kent, I'm sorry." Lana shifted in her chair. Her eyes grew distant in a moment of reminiscence. "Do you remember the time you two took me to the dressage competition in Metropolis? I was so nervous. Then Mr. Kent sat me down and told me to do my best, that I could do it. I ended up with the third-place ribbon."

Martha smiled through the incipient tears. "You worked hard for that and you earned it."

"Then there were all the times that I asked him to look at my car. You know that first car I got was really in bad shape. I remember telling him that I had to put gas, oil, and water in it just about every time I used it, and he said, "You can't drive a thing like that! Bring it over here!" and he looked at it and got it fixed up. Multiple times."

Martha chuckled. "We had a name for that car – we called it the 'Rustang'!"

"He was such a good guy…I never thanked him for so many things…" now Lana was close to tears. Martha squeezed her hand. "I miss him too. I guess you never know when things will change."

"Lana…" Martha said in a low voice. "I know that the relationship between you and Clark is none of my business…but I want you to know that I still care for you, and that I hope we can talk, even if you can't or don't want to talk to Clark."

Lana looked away for a moment, her eyes on the blue sky seen through the jet windows, clouds below. "Thanks, Mrs. Kent. I'm grateful for that. I want to keep seeing you. It's been a little awkward."

"I think of you as like a daughter to me, Lana", Martha said softly. "I want you to do well and be happy."

Tears welled up in Lana's eyes. "Thank you." She reached for a tissue and blew her nose.

Martha leaned back in her seat. "So tell me what you're doing right now", she said in a cheerful tone, implicitly closing the issue.

Lana said, "Well, Met U is still closed this summer while they work on the cleanup from Dark Thursday." A frown crossed her face and she shared a glance with Martha. Both of them remembered the horrible time when they thought that they would have to kill a possessed Lex, if that was even possible. "And I guess you know that I've moved in with Lex."

"How is he treating you, Lana?" Martha asked. They both knew, but did not say, that Lex's upbringing made him chancy in relationships.

"He gets me flowers from the greenhouse all the time. He's given me a Rolex—" here Lana thrust out her wrist for Martha to see the timepiece.

"That's nice, Lana, but that's not what I asked. Are you happy?"

Lana lowered her voice and again leaned closer to Martha, taking a quick look at Lex and Lionel closeted together at their table, talking quietly to each other.

"I don't know. Lex is so secretive sometimes. I know he can't tell me everything, but sometimes I feel he isn't telling me things I need to know." She dropped her voice to an almost-whisper. "And sometimes it's really difficult because we're from such different classes."

"Classes?"

"I know that everyone in America is supposed to be equal, but there's a big difference between being raised by a flower-shop owner and going to Smallville High, and being raised by a billionaire and going to Excelsior Prep." Lana smiled ruefully. "Our attitudes about money are so different…"

Martha gave a little smile too, as she remembered the opposite-way culture shock she herself had faced, moving from a life of wealth and privilege in Metropolis to the make-it-do thriftiness on the farm with Jonathan.

"I realize now that at least with Chloe and Pete and…Clark…we had a similar upbringing. We weren't rich, but we weren't poor. With Lex, things are so different. And it's not just the money; it's the whole thing about having servants, and needing security, and being followed by photographers." A pause. "Sometimes I feel with Lex like it's 'same planet, different worlds'. I never felt like that with Clark."

"Oh, Lana!"

"Sometimes I think that people just look at me as 'the latest Lex girl', and they only want to talk to me to get at Lex. It's like I don't matter anymore."

"Oh, Lana, you'll always matter." Martha squeezed Lana's hand. She let go, and Lana reached down unconsciously and cupped her abdomen.

Martha put subliminal clues together. "Lana, are you _pregnant_?" she spoke in an urgent whisper.

Lana burst into quiet tears. "Yes". Martha leaned over and enfolded Lana in a hug.

"Does Lex know?" she asked Lana.

"Not yet. I'm not sure if I can tell him. What am I going to do?" she said helplessly.

Martha stared at Lana for a moment, feeling the stab of jealousy she always got when another woman announced her pregnancy. Then her natural good will arose, and she hugged Lana again. "Whatever you do, I'll help you and support you. You know you can count on me."

"Thank you, Mrs. Kent…" Lana's voice trailed off in muffled sobs. Lex and Lionel looked curiously at the two women, but fortunately the sounds were muffled by the overhead music that had started when the two men began their conferencing. Lex turned his attention back to his laptop.

"How are you feeling? Are you having morning sickness?" Martha asked.

"I've fainted a few times. So far I haven't had much vomiting. I do feel tired all the time." Lana sat up straighter and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Have you seen a doctor yet?"

"Yes, I've been to Dr. Januszewski."

"He's good." Martha was reassured. "Lana, are you tired now?"

"I'm so tired. It's like I can't get enough sleep."

"Lana, I want you to recline your chair, and try to sleep now. It'll be at least two hours before we get there."

Lana rubbed her eyes. "Will you be ok?"

"Lana, I'm a senator. And the one thing I've found about being a senator is that there is never-ending paperwork. Don't worry about me."

"All right, Mrs. Kent." She did as Martha requested, and in a very short period of time, had slipped into slumber.

Martha sat watching Lana for at least ten minutes, seeing her chest rise and fall steadily. Lana fidgeted a little bit in her sleep. Her arm once again cradled her belly.

_Oh, Clark. _Might-have-beens coursed through Martha's head. Suddenly she felt sorry for Lana, and even felt sorry for Lex. She herself had had a wonderful marriage, a loving husband, a strong and healthy son. Would Lex and Lana be able to overcome their demons? Again a pang of grief went through her, but this time it was tempered by the good memories of Jonathan. At that moment, she found herself forgiving Lex. _What's done is done. It was Jonathan's time._ Although much pain still remained, a little grief was laid to rest.

When they debarked at the island airport, Lionel handed her down the prop-plane steps to Lex who awaited on the tarmac. Martha took Lex's hands in her own and said, "Lex, I wish you the best. Don't be a stranger."

Lex looked surprised for a moment, then Martha saw a look of calculation in his eyes. _What does she mean by that?, _she could tell Lex was thinking. She reiterated, "Lex, we've had our moments, but I think we respect each other. I don't want to lose contact with you." At that moment, the look of calculation was replaced by a fleeting glimpse of uncertainty, vulnerability. Then the wall slammed down and Lex's face again assumed the bland mask he wore so well.


	4. Flight II

Lois smiled as she gazed at the sleek Learjet on the Metropolis International Airport tarmac. Not only had she gotten out of flying with Lionel Luthor, she had gotten an invitation to fly with Oliver Queen in his corporate jet. Although she planned on spending most of the flight working on preparations for Senator Kent for the conference, she hoped that she and Ollie could spend a little time snuggling.

The object of her affections strode up, and greeted her with a pleased smile. "Lois! Right on time!" Oliver said.

"Thanks for inviting me, Ollie", Lois said.

"It's my pleasure", he responded. "Step on in."

The two boarded the jet. More compact than the Luthorcorp jet, the cabin still contained the roomy seats, luxurious fittings, and ample work areas that Lois had come to associate with private planes of the very rich. She looked around the cabin.

"Where's the pilot?" she asked.

"You're looking at him." Oliver grinned and headed up to the cockpit. Lois stood stunned for a moment, her hopes of a little romantic interlude vanishing. Then she followed Oliver.

"I didn't know that you flew." She looked around the cockpit – two seats faced a bewildering array of dials, gauges, switches, and indicator lights.

"This will be a good opportunity for me to get a few more hours of flight time", Oliver said absently. "I just filed the flight plan. Let me just go through the checklist, and we can get going."

She was obviously out of his thoughts just then, and stood there at a loss, unsure of what to do.

"Oh. Lois, why don't you sit in the co-pilot's seat right now?" Oliver came back to himself momentarily.

She buckled herself in, then sat quietly while Oliver did some mysterious calculations with a map and GPS, and then went through a forty-step checklist. Apparently everything checked out, because he started the engine and contacted the tower.

"Metropolis International, this is Queen Industries Baker Romeo Foxtrot five seven niner. Request permission to take off."

Lois couldn't hear the flight controller's reply. However, Oliver was able to taxi out to a runway. Due to their early time of departure, there were few other planes waiting, and soon they lifted off.

She had flown in the past, but never before had such a great seat and view. Acceleration forces pushed her back into her seat as Oliver gave extra power to the jet during the takeoff. The plane leapt into the air. It seemed much more nimble than the large passenger jets that Lois was used to flying on.

She looked out the window and saw the ground rapidly disappearing. Buildings became small dots on the landscape, and cars were but moving insects. Lois noticed how Americans liked to delineate their territories in squares and rectangles. Property boundaries were obvious. The interstate highway was a straight ribbon of concrete cutting through cities, fields, yards, and lawns, extending to the horizons. The jet climbed higher, and soon clouds obscured her view of the ground below. It was weird to be _above_ the clouds.

Oliver had been keeping in touch with Metropolis Flight Control, and also paying close attention to his dials and gauges. Lois sat quietly in her seat, not wanting to distract him at a possibly critical time. Eventually he seemed to be satisfied, and leaned back in his seat.

"We're at cruising altitude now, and I've set the autopilot." He smiled at her. "What do you think?"

"It's marvelous, Ollie", Lois said truthfully. "I love flying." She could look out the window for hours.

"We should be coming up on the next airport in about ten minutes."

"That soon?" Lois asked.

"You probably think of airports as only big places like Met International, but there are a lot of tiny little airports with radio beacons all over America. I use them to confirm my course."

Lois had never known that. "Can I follow where we're going on a map?"

Oliver looked pleased. "Sure. I've got my flight plan plotted out on this map." He passed it to Lois. "Next stop, Pellston!"

"Pellston?" Lois asked in confusion. "I thought we were going to Mackinac Island."

"We are. But the whole island is only eight miles in circumference. There's not enough room for a runway to land jets. So we get off at Pellston Airport on the mainland, and switch to a propeller plane to get us to the island."

"Do you fly the prop plane too?" Lois asked, almost rhetorically.

"Oliver Queen is a multi-talented guy!" he said playfully. He leaned across the center console and gave her a quick kiss. _Maybe this flight isn't a total loss_, Lois thought.

Saul Stein and Don Partridge were up early that Friday morning. Saul came in to find Don curled up on the couch in the lounge near their lab. His wrinkled and disheveled clothing indicated that Don had never gone home the night before.

"Saul?" Don sat up, rubbing his eyes. "I've got some new ideas." He ran a hand through his hair, and stretched. "If we make a change in the software in the device…" he was off and running on an esoteric tangent. Saul shook his head and smiled.

"Don. Don." Saul said it firmly. "Don. Today we are packing up. Remember?"

Don deflated. "Oh. Yes.", he said flatly. Saul felt guilty for pulling Don from his lovely creative dreams into the flat gray real world of industrial espionage and ethically challenged CEO's.

"Let me just work a little at it", Don pleaded.

_What the heck,_ Saul thought, _it's not like he has anything to do right now. I'm the one that's getting everything all together for our exit._ "OK", he said.

Don attached the device to his computer. In appearance, the device resembled nothing so much as a gray brick. One end contained USB ports and an electric power outlet to run the miniaturized silicon-based technology inside. A thin wafer fit into a slot near the ports. This was the receiving tagger, which could be physically separated from the device.

The other end was heavier; if one were to drop the device, it would fall with that side down. That end contained a small box, heavily shielded in ceramic and lead, which in turn contained the meteor rock and nuclear isotopes. Saul knew that a tiny cable ran from the computer end to the isotopic end, but this could not be seen as the entire device was coated in lead and then shock-resistant outer packaging. They had tried to make failsafes so that the nuclear material inside would not be able to escape under any circumstances.

Their one concession to whimsy was a large red button on top of the brick, labeled, "Press Here." It stemmed from a conversation Saul had had with Don one night, falling into flights of whimsy at a bar. He had recounted certain trouble-shooting missions of his, always amazed at how people could get themselves into bizarre circumstances and do such stupid things. He quoted the famous saying, "Nothing is foolproof because fools are so ingenious". Don had replied by stating that they would make their button foolproof.

In the few tests they had run (in heavily shielded experimental areas), they had programmed the device via Don's laptop. The device accepted the programming, they put it in the experimental area with a data recorder attached to the ports, separated the receiving tagger from the device, put whatever they were trying to transport within three meters of the device, and then closed the door of the experimental chamber. A mechanical plunger was made to press the button. Standardized blocks of wood, metal, and stone were used on all trials, and were 'autopsied' after each trial. So far there had been no apparent change in composition, density, arrangement, you name it. The "transporter beam" seemed to function perfectly, as far as disassembling and reassembling the item transported. Don argued with Saul at times if it were really disassembly/reassembly or if the object were only moving through a wormhole, skipping over the physical space in between. Saul could hold his own for a short while in these arguments, but soon would shake his head in incomprehension as Don continued to buttress his arguments with obvious-to-himself calculations and theories.

Saul wished that they could have done more trials. They were still having trouble defining the field radius, defining the length of time the field would last, and also defining what should be 'transported'. The device was always set on a pile of three concrete bricks, and had transported the supporting bricks as well as the standardized test blocks. Don had done some stellar work lately, and in their last test, he demonstrated that he could tweak the field to ignore fixed structures (such as the floor and walls) and transport only movable items (such as bricks and blocks). Saul considered this a tremendous achievement.

Defining the field radius and amount of time the field lasted seemed much more difficult. Don thought this might be due to variations in the purity of the meteor rock or nuclear isotopes, and wanted to do more experiments to test this theory.

They were hampered by difficulty in obtaining the power source. They required nuclear isotopes as well as refined, powdered meteor rock. The isotopes were obtained from the nearby Metropolis nuclear power plant (actually, thirty miles away from Metropolis despite the name.) The meteor rock came from Smallville.

The isotopes were vitrified into an inert glass-ceramic compound of a particular shape in a "hot room" at the power plant, avoiding the risk of spreading microgram amounts of radioactive dust. The heavily shielded vitrified glass cube was then taken to Luthorcorp Labs, where waldos operated by protected workers removed the shielding, surrounded the vitrified cube with powdered meteor rock, and encased the two in a lead casing. A tiny opening was left for the thin cable which attached to the controlling hardware. The isotopic/meteor rock box, still in the Luthorcorp shielded "hot room", was remotely attached to the controlling hardware, then the whole device encased with lead, ceramic, and shock-absorbing foam, leaving only the ports and large red button exposed. Saul thought it fortunate that they didn't have to do very fine work to attach the cable wire from the controlling hardware to the radioactive end of the device; it seemed as long as they left a bare end of the wire in the powdered meteor rock, the device would work.

Due to the sophisticated chemistry needed for vitrification, the refinement and powdering of the meteor rock, the difficulty in dealing with radioactive compounds and the necessity for stringent safety protocols and worker monitoring, each device cost Luthorcorp somewhere in the neighborhood of eight hundred thousand dollars. It was no wonder that they thought long and hard before doing each trial, and tried to gather as much data as possible from each trial.

_At least we don't have to worry about nuclear waste disposal after our trials_, Saul thought sardonically. After the field was generated, the meteor rock changed from its normal bright green color to a colorless powder. The isotopes had been shown to become non-radioactive after the field was generated. This was truly amazing, and Saul looked forward to discussing it with other scientists in the field once they were able to publish. Luthorcorp had enforced its confidentiality clause with maximum zeal, and that had been one thing that rankled Don the most. He firmly believed in sharing information, and bitterly wanted to go to a conference and discuss his work with his peers.

_Isn't it too bad that they forgot to have Don re-sign his contract? There's no prohibition on him talking or publishing now. _Saul laughed to himself. He couldn't believe that Luthorcorp had fallen down so badly on a routine matter like this. He wondered if it was related to the turmoil in the executive suite, Lionel being tried for murder, being replaced by Lex, who in turn was lost at sea for several months, then Lionel back again, then the palace coup that replaced Lionel with Lex. Supporters of each faction had fought for position and influence with an outwardly polite but brutal savagery that astounded even Saul. As a matter of course, Saul tried to stay out of executive-suite politics, but had seen many a power play in his time. The antics of the past three years were among the worse he had ever seen, downright Machiavellian at times. _No wonder some day to day stuff gets lost in the shuffle, with people resigning left and right, headhunters swooping down to skim off the cream, and people more concerned with watching their backs rather than attending to business. _He had tried to keep his and Don's research flying under the radar, keep their heads down, not attract attention. Apparently his efforts had succeeded. _I pity the people who'll take the fall for not making sure Don was kept under contract – their heads will roll. Maybe literally._

_Well, that's it. I'm….we're getting out now. And it's time to go. I think we've attracted Lex Luthor's attention._ As Lex consolidated his power over Luthorcorp, he was reviewing all projects. He had lately asked for an update on their status; Saul shrugged and gave him a mostly truthful report. Actually, everything Saul said was true; he just didn't say _everything._ He downplayed the neutralization of the radioactive isotopes as much as he could (not much, considering the stunning nature of the information). He didn't tell how much progress they had made in controlling the extent, duration, and selectivity of the transporter field. And he tried very hard to keep Lex Luthor from getting interested in Don Partridge; he had a feeling that if Lex met Don, Lex would immediately make sure that Don was shackled (with golden handcuffs, of course) to Luthorcorp for the rest of his career.

Saul squared his shoulders as he went around the room, making sure that all was either packed up (very little) or was in a condition that would be of no use to further researchers. They had used the last of the isotopic / meteor rock boxes, and the device in the lab was the only extant prototype. He didn't think he'd have any trouble getting Oliver Queen interested in duplicating their devices, though, given the stunning nature of their research.

He sat down at his computer, getting ready to launch his Trojan horse program that would delete all data from this project and replace it with his cover story. A flurry of activity in the hallway (_so early? Why?)_ drew his attention.

A knock at the door dispelled the hope that whatever it was would bypass their lab. Don looked up in surprise, his train of thought derailed.

The door opened. Saul stood up. "Mr. Luthor", he said. "Good to see you." Lex offered his hand.


	5. I Hate Flying

"Did I ever tell you how much I hate flying?"

"You hate flying?" Chloe replied, looking over at Clark sitting in the passenger seat of their modest rented sedan. They were driving north, up the Lake Michigan coastline on the western side of Michigan's Lower Peninsula.

"First it was getting to Metropolis International before dawn ---"

"Like it took you any time at all to get there", Chloe interrupted.

"Then having to go through airport security. That makes me nervous. I haven't flown since we went on that eighth-grade class trip to Washington D.C. What if their new X-ray screeners find something, well, _odd_, about me?"

"Good point", Chloe conceded. "But they didn't. Although they did make you strip down to your socks. I was afraid that they were going to take you to a back room and make you strip down further than that."

"They didn't, thank God", Clark said. "And then there's that maze of passageways at Chicago O'Hare. How many terminals and gates do they have there? And the ones you are going from and to are always about three miles apart. Remind me never to book a transfer in Chicago again."

"I don't think you'll be able to avoid that, Clark."

"At least we only had carry-on luggage. I know if we'd checked our bags, they'd be in Ulan Bator or something."

"Yes, well, the price of that was a pile of confiscated toiletry items."

"I told you not to bring those scissors." Clark smirked.

"They were only a pair of nail scissors!" Chloe sputtered. "And they took everything in bottles!"

"Well, we're going to have to stop at a store anyway, because, having read the security alerts, unlike _some_ people I know, I didn't bring anything. So I have to buy it all at my destination."

"Clark, let's look at the positive side. Our flight from Metropolis International left on time. We got through Chicago without any trouble. And getting to Traverse City was a breeze."

"For you. You weren't the one who had to have his feet sticking out in the aisle because the leg room was so small."

"Hey, I had the aisle seat ticket and I gave it to you to be nice!"

"That was self-defense and you know it, Chloe. Otherwise my elbow would have been in your ribs for the entire flight."

"Point granted."

They drove north along US-31 in silence for a short while. Lacy clouds dotted the cerulean sky. Sunshine glinted off the leaves of the trees, outlining a million different shades of green.

"Clark", Chloe said in a more serious tone, "do you hate flying because you're not the one doing it?"

Clark shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well…" he said.

Chloe continued. "You told me that when you were possessed by your…Kryptonian alter ego…you flew then. Are you spoiled for airplanes now?" She grinned.

Clark smiled back, grateful for her blithe acceptance of his freakish abilities. "Probably", he admitted.

"Do you think you can fly again?" Chloe probed. "I mean, it's so cool!"

"I've thought about that a lot", Clark said quietly. "Sometimes I have dreams that I'm flying, and sometimes I can almost sort of slip into that dreamlike state while I'm awake, and feel that I almost could fly."

"Well, if you decide to imitate Wilbur Wright sans biplane, I want you to take me up. First dibs."

"You making your reservation now, missy?" Clark teased.

"Darn straight, and don't you forget it." They drove on. "All kidding aside, Clark, do you think it's going to be one of your abilities?"

"I think so." He looked serious. "When Lex was possessed by Zod, he was able to fly. And when I was Kal-El, I could too. So I think it's something that Kryptonians can do on Earth. Maybe I have to get older. I've really been wondering about it a lot."

"I wonder if you'll show up on radar", Chloe mused. "You'd be an honest-to-God UFO! Be sure not to go near Roswell, Clark."

They both laughed. "I don't know what I'll do with it, though", Clark said. "I mean, what would you do if you could fly?"

Chloe gave him a "are you ever a big dumb alien" look. "I'd fly! Just flying would be cool enough! Clark, I think you're complicating this too much!"

"It's just…"

She chided him, "You always think you have to _do_ something. For once, can you just _be_?"

"That sounds very Zen-like", he retorted. "Well, if you were done just _being_ and you had to _do _something, what would you do?" He smirked at her momentary consternated expression.

Sarcastically she replied, "Oh, all right, I'd track migratory bird patterns or something." She gave him a smile.

He stared out the window. The view to the left was stunning. Lake Michigan stretched to the horizon. The road ran near the shoreline, with a wide strip of beach, undergrowth, and rocks separating the two. The foam of an occasional lazy wave broke the deep blue smoothness of the lake surface. Seagulls hovered over, their mewling cries clearly audible to Clark despite the road noise.

"You know, Clark, speaking of your powers…" Chloe said in a musing tone.

"What?"

"You have X-ray vision, right?" Clark nodded to her question. "I'm assuming that you see in the visible spectrum just like I do, right?"

He nodded again. "Where are you going with this, Chloe?"

"Well, I'm just wondering if, you can see visible light, and you can see in the x-ray spectrum, can you see in the ultraviolet range in between? And can you see gamma rays that are beyond x-rays in the electromagnetic spectrum?"

Clark sat back in his seat, obviously considering. "Wow, that's a good question, Chloe. I never thought of that." He scrunched up his face and assumed the stare that Chloe had learned meant he was doing the x-ray vision thing. "I never tried. I mean, I have to focus to use the x-ray vision, and I really don't know what part of the spectrum I'm using, wavelength-wise. Maybe I'm only set to see one wavelength of x-rays. But that can't be, because I've gotten different views of stuff…like when I first got it, I saw Pete like he didn't have skin on—"

"Eew", Chloe interjected.

"But then I also see like an x-ray, black and white, you know." He sat for a moment. "I don't know about the ultraviolet. Maybe we should set up some experiment together when we get back. I don't know if my vision fades out at those wavelengths till I do the x-ray thing, or if I really do see ultraviolet and just thought it was another shade of purple."

"That's interesting."

"I never thought about gamma rays either. I wonder if I could see them…" Clark trailed off, again wrinkling his forehead and concentrating.

"I don't think you see infrared, though, do you, Clark?"

"Good question again, Chloe. I know I _emit_ it, with the heat vision, but I don't know how I do that either. It just happens. I guess I should try looking. But I don't have a clue how to start that. I think, from what my abilities are now, I'd have more success in seeing at the high-energy, short-wavelength end of the spectrum, and maybe I do better emitting at the low-energy, long-wavelength end."

"God, I was so bored with physics back in high school, and now it seems so practical." Chloe remembered a droning teacher in Smallville High.

"I always thought it was fascinating", countered Clark. "It was _biology_ that I didn't like. For obvious reasons."

"Hey, remember that time we were supposed to take cheek swabs from each other and look at the cells under the microscope?"

"Yeah. You covered for me, you did both slides from your swab. That was before I knew you knew. Thanks in retrospect."

"Did you ever look at your cells?" Chloe asked interestedly.

"They had some kind of weird organelles in them…Let's just say I was glad that they didn't get shown to Ms Riley."

They made a right-hand turn. "Not much farther now", Chloe said. "Check the map, will you, Clark?"

He unfolded their map. "Let's see… it looks like we get on Interstate-75 at Indian River, then pass by the thriving towns of Topinabee, and Mullett Lake, and then it's only thirteen more miles to Mackinaw City."

"I wonder how people can stand living here. I haven't seen a Starbucks since Traverse City. All there is here is trees."

Clark laughed at the disdain in Chloe's voice. "Maybe some of us like unspoiled vistas and nature's beauty."

"Give me a what's-happening-kind-of-town like Metropolis or Chicago any day."

They drove on, in a companionable silence. Chloe looked over at Clark. He would have episodes of concentration (_he's using the x-ray vision_, Chloe thought), interspersed with periods of relaxing his focus, shaking his head, and rubbing his eyes.

Despite Chloe's griping, she had to admit that it was a beautiful day. The concrete ribbon of the highway arrowed north, rising and falling on the hilly territory. A high overpass carried the roadway over a deep valley; the walls of the valley were a solid mass of trees, both coniferous and deciduous. The white bark of the silver birches stood out amidst the darker maples, oaks, and evergreens.

She pointed Clark's attention to a lurid billboard. "Seashell City! Thousands Of Seashells! See the Giant Man-Eating Clam!" it proclaimed in eye-grabbing lettering.

"This is something we've got to see", Chloe said mischievously.

"Too bad, Chloe – not this time." Clark looked at his watch. "We'll have to step on it if we want to get to the island in time to check in and pick up our conference credentials."

Chloe's voice revealed her disappointment. "I guess we'll have to hit it on the way back." She gave Clark an appealing glance.

"You think a mere man-eating clam is good enough to make it onto the Digital Wall of Weird?"

"A good reporter checks things out." They laughed, and drove on.


	6. Leaving Luthorcorp Labs

Saul swore. His plans were awry. He had counted on Don and him working quietly in the lab all day, then leave in the late afternoon, along with the numerous other workers anticipating the weekend. He would have set off his virus program, secure in the knowledge that their lab would be unmonitored over the weekend, their absence missed until they had safely contacted Oliver Queen's representative and gotten to Star City.

Instead, Lex Luthor had come in the early morning, demanding their remaining prototype. Despite Saul's hopes, Don had come blundering out of the washroom just as Lex had been about to leave. Of course Don couldn't keep his mouth shut, and had gone into an exposition of their work and what he wanted to do next. With dread, Saul had seen Lex's expression of _these are just a couple of Luthorcorp research peons_ morph into a genuine interest. Not only that, Lex had ordered one of his flunkies to look into the project more closely and prepare a report for him. It had taken four hours to get the flunky out of the lab, Saul being unable to work on his preparations for departure all that time. Finally, the man responded to pleas of _Dr Partridge really has to work right now, we've got to make a new device like Mr. Luthor says_, and exited.

_So, what's our status?_ Saul thought. _Lex took our prototype that we were going to take to Queen Industries. We do have all the data on the trials and are going to be able to make a new one, but that'll take some time. What's worse, is that he's actually _seen _Don, and Don has attracted his attention. Now he knows what an asset Don is, and he'll certainly be looking into this project. _Then Saul straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath.

_On the other hand, things haven't really changed. It's later in the day, but we didn't plan on leaving till about five anyway. I just have to do a little bit more on the virus program, and we just have to pack up a little bit more. As soon as we're out of the plant, I can call the Queen Industries contact and get a pickup like we planned. So really, the only difference is that we don't have the device. _

He moved around the lab, gathering things, packing them away. It ached, giving up a lifetime of loyalty to Luthorcorp Labs. It would be hard not seeing the friends he'd made working there. He'd been in Metropolis for awhile; he knew the best restaurants, knew where to go to get his dry cleaning done, where to shop for groceries (an infrequent occurrence), how to get tickets to the sports teams, had found a dentist he liked. _Sometimes that's the toughest part about moving; just finding all those little places again._

Then he looked at his computer terminal and thought once again of the obscenities he'd seen in the data files on Level 33.1. _Time to go_, he thought resolutely.

"Don? You ready?" he asked.

"All set, Saul", Don said softly. They exited the lab and closed the door behind them.


	7. Crossing The Bridge

Chloe gasped in wonder at the view. Their car crested the top of a rise in the highway. The road continued straight north, cutting a pathway through the forests. In the distance, the road dipped out of sight. But the twin towers of the Mackinac Bridge soared into the sky.

The smooth curves of the suspension cables were poetry made concrete. Pure mathematical form harnessed to human use, they awoke feelings of awe. The cables dipped to a "U" shape between the two towers, then climbed over the top of each tower and dipped in a straighter slope to piers on the north and south ends of the bridge. For a moment, Chloe was proud to be of a race that could conceive and build such a massive, beautiful structure.

They continued driving. All too quickly coming to the northern end of the Lower Peninsula, driving past the small town of Mackinaw City, they looked at a highway sign which warned, "Last Exit Before Bridge". Clark looked at Chloe. "Do you want to cross?"

"We don't really need to, but I want to. Just to say I did." There was something exciting about crossing that great bridge. Chloe had only ever crossed the Golden Gate Bridge once, on a trip to San Francisco; she hadn't crossed any other great bridges, such items being rare in mid-continent Kansas.

"OK, we're crossing." They stayed on the highway, and approached the causeway. Chloe could barely see land at the other end of the bridge; a slight mist rose from the lake, obscuring her view. On the bridge, only a sidewalk-like path and a short guardrail separated their car from the edge of the bridge and the cold blue water below. Chloe dropped their speed as she looked eagerly to either side.

"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore", Clark teased. Chloe laughed.

They continued on the long causeway. Piers of concrete and steel supported the roadway on its beginning trip through the five-mile wide Straits of Mackinac. Their car climbed a gentle rise; the huge suspension cable was visible on the side of the bridge, slowly rising to its high point, five hundred and fifty-two feet above the water, at the top of the suspension towers.

Chloe looked at the suspension cable. It was as thick as a tree trunk. Smaller cables coursed vertically from the main suspension cable, supporting the roadway. They passed the first suspension tower. Chloe wanted to look up and up, and cursed the necessity of paying attention to driving. The giant suspension cable began dipping down again, to its lowest point midway between the two towers. A change in sound alerted her; the pavement had changed from concrete to wire grating. She looked more closely; the four-lane bridge's outer two lanes were concrete, the inner two lanes wire grating. A small curb of concrete separated the northbound two lanes from the southbound.

"I wonder why the wire grating?" Chloe mused.

"Probably to let the wind through", Clark volunteered. His eyes darted everywhere, as did Chloe's. "Do you remember seeing that film clip in physics class about the Tacoma Narrows Bridge?"

"The one where the wind started up some harmonic resonance thing and the whole bridge just collapsed? You could see the whole bridge flexing up and down."

"Gives you a new appreciation for the power of Mother Nature." Clark sounded pensive. He looked over the side. Chloe looked down; two hundred feet below, a tall white sailboat and an expensive-looking yacht cruised by. Far away in the distance, an ochre-painted cargo freighter looked like a toy, despite its thousand-food length.

They passed the second tower. The traffic was moderately heavy; Chloe took advantage of the fact to slow down and gawk some more. Through their open windows, a fresh lake breeze whispered in, cool and refreshing.

They came to a stop; traffic was being moved from the right to the right-center lane, the right lane being occupied by a painting crew and their gear. "I read somewhere that it takes seven years to paint this bridge, and when they're done, they just start all over again at the other end." Chloe looked at the deep green color of the cables and ironwork of the suspension, and the dazzling white of the towers. She looked to her right; a small lay-by contained a stalled car and a tow truck. She had seen two little 'outpouchings' of the roadway where one could pull aside if necessary.

The giant cables on either side of them dipped down, becoming level with the roadway, then sinking below the pavement level. Piers now supported the road; they were approaching the causeway on the northern end. Clark reached for his wallet as they left the bridge and approached the toll booths. "I never really realized how big the Great Lakes really are", he said quietly.

"Me neither", Chloe confessed. "I thought Crater Lake was pretty big."

The necessity of paying the toll cut off further conversation. They slowly accelerated, leaving the toll plaza. Clark said, "What next?"

"We just have to get on the ferry, go to the island, check in our hotel, and pick up our credentials. I'll certainly be happy to freshen up", Chloe said. It had been a long morning, crammed in airline seats and then a two-hour car ride.

"Me, too", Clark agreed. They were silent as Chloe piloted the car into the small town of St. Ignace. It wasn't difficult to find the ferry; three companies competed for the tourist dollar, and advertisements and billboards led one to their docks. There was no waiting at the ticket line, and soon they boarded.

The ferry, a two-decked catamaran, sounded its horn and pulled away from the dock. Clark and Chloe climbed up the stairs to the top level. Bench seats on either side of a center aisle were exposed to the open air. Tourists clad in T-shirts and shorts snapped pictures of themselves on the boat with the Mackinac Bridge in the background.

Chloe moved forward as the boat picked up speed. Soon a brisk wind ruffled her hair. The foamy wake behind them left an arrowing trail in the smooth blue waters, slowly returning to calm. The warm sun contrasted nicely with the cool lake breeze. The boat picked up speed; soon they were rushing towards Mackinac Island.

Chloe looked at Clark and smiled in delight; at this moment there was nowhere she would rather be than with Clark, on a boat, headed for a weekend of intrigue and investigation. As they neared the island, a majestic white building on the side of a wooded hill came into focus.

"What's that?" Clark asked.

"That's the conference hotel, the Grand Hotel." Chloe had read their informational packet. "Remember, it was in that movie, "Someone In Time", that starred Christian Reef and Anne Boleyn? About the guy that goes back in time to meet up with his true love? Remember when we saw that movie together? They had that great Rachmaninoff music. It was so romantic!" She practically wept as she remembered the separated lovers.

"Chick film", Clark said dismissively. Then he looked at Chloe and grinned.

Twenty minutes saw them passing the Round Island Lighthouse, a red-and-white house-like structure with a light tower out in the middle of the lake. Buoys marked the navigable channel and warned of shallow waters. The ferry diminished its speed as it cruised into the docking area, a small bay, on Mackinac Island.

The tourists bustled around, gathering up their cameras, backpacks, totes, jackets, clothing, and children. Clark and Chloe lingered on the boat, wanting to avoid the rush. The boat docked; the dock workers threw out a gangplank; the tourists streamed off the boat. Clark and Chloe followed, picking up their luggage from the baggage area on their way. They followed the covered dock walkway out to the street.

Chloe looked on in wonderment, stopping and momentarily blocking the flow of traffic. No matter; all traffic was on foot, bicycle, or in horse-drawn cart or carriage. Victorian-style wooden buildings lined the main street which ran parallel to the coastline. People thronged the avenue, going in and out of shops. Chloe stood, just watching the people for a moment. A horse-drawn cart stopped nearby; the horse lifted its tail and calmly deposited a load of manure on the street.

Clark muttered, "Just like on the farm".

What wasn't like on the farm, however, was the young man who came swooping up on inline skates, carrying a pushbroom. He quickly swept up the manure. Chloe noticed that despite all the horses, there was no manure to be seen on the main avenue; obviously the tourist department preferred to keep some nineteenth-century realities a little fuzzy.

She looked across the street; they were directly across from the Murray Hotel, for which they had reservations. It was a matter of a few seconds to cross the street and enter the hotel.

The heavenly smell of fudge filled their nostrils as the hotel entrance door closed behind them. To reach the reception desk, they had to pass by a windowed glass room containing clean marble-topped tables. White-aproned workers used long metal paddles to turn and mix huge chunks of confection, scraping the marble to get every last speck of chocolate. As the fudge cooled, it was shaped into blocks and the blocks cut into eight- or sixteen-ounce portions for later packaging. Chloe swallowed; the chocolaty small was downright Pavlovian.

Check-in was a breeze, except for Clark glaring at her when he realized that they would be sharing a room. He didn't protest to the reception clerk, but as they headed to their room, he asked with deceptive calmness, "What was that?"

"Well, it's the Lilac Festival, and we reserved late, and that was the only room they had." Chloe said, not budging.

Clark looked dubious but said nothing more. He looked a little happier when their room was revealed to have two beds. He put down their luggage and laid down on the bed, stretching out.

"Don't get too comfortable. We still have to go to the Grand Hotel and register at the conference", Chloe said.

"It's just nice to stop traveling for a bit", Clark said.

"Yeah", Chloe agreed. "Well, time to put on the work clothes." She freshened up and changed to a more professional-looking outfit, but kept on her comfortable shoes. Clark did the same, then they headed back out to the main street.

They dodged tourists, bicyclists, horses, and (despite the cleaners) the occasional horse apple as they headed eastwards. They turned right, and began walking up a steep hill. Soon they neared an immaculately groomed lawn and bloom-filled gardens. A horse-drawn carriage with a liveried coachman driver passed them and turned into the driveway leading to the entrance of the Grand Hotel. Clark realized that the clopping of the hoofbeats was strangely muffled; he focused his vision on the horse and discovered its shoes were not steel but polyurethane.

Entering the lobby was entering another world of quiet, understated elegance and luxury. Fine wood paneling reflected the muted light of Victorian-style light fixtures. Chloe could feel her shoes sinking into the thick carpet. Comfortable armchairs surrounded ornate antique wooden tables. A discreet sign pointed them towards an alcove, where a uniformed hotel staffer checked their credentials.

"Kent?" The hotel staffer ruffled through some papers in front of him. "Obviously not Martha…oh, Clark Kent!" He smiled, giving Clark a badge and a large packet. It took him only a minute to find Chloe's reservation and soon she had a badge and packet as well.

"Media members are restricted from the conference rooms and may not interview attendees until tomorrow", the man informed them.

"But…but…" Chloe sputtered, speechless in her indignation.

"You are welcome to eat in the Dining Salon; dinner prices start at one hundred dollars. You also may stroll the Grand Hotel front porch; the view is especially lovely today." The man dismissed them.

Chloe grabbed her badge and almost crumpled it in her hand. "How am I supposed to work if I can't talk to anybody?" she complained. She looked around. She had been around Lex enough to recognize the look of plainclothes security guards. Security personnel manned the exits leading from the lobby to the conference areas and hotel rooms.

Clark smiled.

"What?" Chloe asked, irritated. "Are you going to super-speed me past the guards?"

"No", he said. "Actually, I was just going to call my mother."

Lois exited the Piper Cub in indecent haste. She ran from the runway to the unpaved ground, fell to her knees and grabbed the grass blades in her hands. Oliver descended from the plane more decorously.

"You know, it was forty degrees in that cabin", he observed calmly.

"Next time we're flying on a tiny propeller plane – remind me to take Dramamine first!" Lois said miserably. "I had to have the window open and a cold breeze on my face to keep me from hurling on you!"

"Well, there is that", Oliver admitted. "I'm glad you didn't." He walked over to her, took her elbow, and helped her up. "May I say that you've regained your color already and that you look ravishing?"

Hot words boiled to Lois' lips, and she opened her mouth. Then her better nature prevailed, and she said sweetly, "Why, thank you, Oliver."

"I see our transportation is here", he said, abandoning his baiting. He pointed to a lacquered black carriage pulled by a bay horse. The coachman came over to take their bags, stowing them on top of the carriage. Oliver handed Lois into the carriage, closing the door as he followed her.

She smiled at Oliver as they began driving to the Grand Hotel. She felt like a princess in a fairy tale. Then the swaying and jostling induced her nausea again, full force. She knocked on the roof. The coachman stopped. She stepped out of the carriage and said, "I'll walk."


	8. Meeting Lionel

Chloe and Clark sat in Martha's hotel room, enjoying the overstuffed chairs, while she bustled around brushing her hair, putting on earrings, and making final checks to her clothing.

"I don't know about that, Chloe", she said. "I'm told that security will be very heavy."

"But I need to interview—" Chloe was cut short as the door opened and Lionel Luthor peered in.

"Martha, are you ready to go? The chairman of United Technologies will be in the Crystal Salon in five minutes ---" Lionel in turn stopped speaking as he entered the room and caught a glimpse of Clark. The door blocked his view of Chloe.

"Clark!" he said, smiling. As ever, a complicated mix of feelings swirled through him as he looked at Clark Kent.

The first was a remembrance of those horrifying days when he had been possessed by Jor-El, a prisoner in his own body. He had been carrying a Kryptonian crystal in his pocket, a stone of unknown origins and capability but thought to be priceless. When the Kryptonian crystal had been activated (he later discovered the activation stemmed from Clark obtaining a different crystal and placing it in the cave table), the world had gone dark and silent. His consciousness, his awareness, was muffled under a deadening barrier. Fight as he might, his senses were obscured; he was incapable of speech; his entire energy devoted to fighting the vast presence that had taken over his body.

He had spent an unknown amount of time fighting, to no avail. As time passed, some measure of sight and hearing had returned; he likened it to looking through goggles coated with Vaseline, hearing through thick earmuffs. The alien presence in his body filled him with fear; he found himself crouching in the corners of his own mind like a deer in the undergrowth scenting a predator. It had turned over every memory in his mind and he had relived days he would prefer be forgotten.

As time passed, he had become more familiar with the presence; it became less of a muffling blanket, more of a separate entity. He felt it was trying to tell him something; he tried to communicate with it, and with the outside world, but later found that he had been writing indecipherable Kryptonian symbols. There was no answer to his attempts at communication. He grew angry; he was _Lionel Luthor_; no one could do this to him! Then he grew afraid; what if he could not escape, could not wake up? But anger, withdrawal, mental shouting, pleas – none made a difference. Eventually the episodes of anger and fear became less, the grayness of a dull acceptance becoming more.

A breakthrough came after what he later discovered was several months. Suddenly he could see again; he could move, although control of the body was not in his power. He found himself moving breathtakingly fast. He watched as the unknown presence used his body to rescue Clark, apparently dead, from the hospital, and take Clark's body to a crystalline Arctic structure. He seemed inhumanly strong, too, as his body lifted and carried Clark easily.

His body laid Clark down and performed incomprehensible actions with crystalline objects. Vast surprise overcame Lionel as Clark awoke. _I thought he was dead!_

Long-unused vocal cords called Clark "son" and talked about Clark's destiny. At that moment, much was revealed to Lionel; the presence, in using him, had shared some of its own mind. Astonishment coursed through Lionel as he realized that Clark was an alien – an alien!—from a planet called Krypton. And that he himself was the unwilling carrier of the spirit of Clark's biological father, who he now knew to be called Jor-El. Thoughts of the latter were lost in Lionel's epiphany as he realized he now knew the secret of the mystery of Clark Kent.

Why had the Kents needed him to arrange adoption papers for Clark? This was more than a simple concealing of an illegitimate child. When Lionel and Martha were held hostage on the 30th floor of the Luthorcorp Building, how had Clark gotten in? What was the significance of the octagonal piece of metal, and how did it fit in the Kawatche cave wall? What about the cryptic cave wall symbols? Why was Clark present so many times when Lex or himself had been threatened, and why had they come out unscathed when by all reasonable theories, they should have been dead fifteen times over? Who else knew? Obviously Clark's parents; Virgil Swann must, or he wouldn't be e-mailing Kryptonian symbols to Clark; how many other people?

Clark left the Arctic Fortress; Lionel could feel the presence (_Jor-El – I know that now)_ preparing to muffle him, to shut him away, again.

"Wait!" Lionel said it out loud and also in his head as loudly as possible. And he had proposed a deal. He would use his influence and Earthly knowledge to help Clark as much as possible; he would remain a vessel of Jor-El, ready to be used whenever necessary; Jor-El in turn would stand back, and Lionel would control his own body and mind again. He would have sworn anything to escape a return to that strange twilight existence, where he was only a passive observer.

Although no words were spoken, Lionel felt that Jor-El accepted the deal. Strangely, he also felt that Jor-El seemed _relieved. _Later, as he and Jor-El grew more attuned to each other, he realized that Jor-El had not liked _using_ him without his consent, that Jor-El felt that was wrong.

Somehow he was transported back to Smallville, astounding Lex with the "miracle cure" of his apparent catatonia. The overwhelming presence of Jor-El's personality retreated; Lionel controlled his own body and mind. He could feel that Jor-El remained, however; emotions, images, feelings, even some knowledge of things Kryptonian, came to him in a wordless manner.

As ever, he examined the deal he had made; although he always kept to the letter of his word, his specialty was exploring the limits of the deal, taking advantage of the undefined clauses and tricky loopholes. But, strangely, he found himself willing to keep his deal in a straightforward manner. Part of this was common sense; Jor-El was in his head; Lionel didn't know how much Jor-El knew of his thoughts, but assumed that everything was known. Jor-El had demonstrated his power; Lionel knew that should he renege on the deal, he himself, his body, his mind, could be taken over at any minute, his consciousness returned to the gray limbo.

Strangely enough, as he and Jor-El spent more time together, he started having different attitudes, different feelings, as though he were becoming more like Jor-El, or even _becoming _Jor-El. He felt the fierce love that Jor-El felt for Clark; the desperate gamble made to send Clark across the galaxy, in hopes of saving him from Krypton's doom. Lionel could not help contrasting this with his own feelings for Lex, the curious mixture of love, hate, fear, and mistrust.

He felt Jor-El's fear and anger at Clark refusing to learn more of his alien heritage. In a way, it was like Lex; a father's guidance was there for Clark, who refused to take it. Despite this, Lionel could feel Jor-El's admiration and satisfaction when Clark saved someone or behaved in a virtuous manner. He became more attuned, through Jor-El, as to what Clark was doing, became curiously aware of Clark's presence or absence.

Lionel came to unwelcome realization after harboring Jor-El for some weeks. He feared that he was losing his edge, the razor-sharp ruthlessness that had earned him his billions. Growing up in Suicide Slum had honed him to a razor sharpness. _Never show fear or weakness; if you do, you are prey. Kill the other first. _ Forced to examine a lifetime of behaviors and attitudes, Lionel realized that he used people, then discarded them afterwards, unless he felt that they would be important to him. He delighted in crushing opposition, in humiliating his opponents, making them realize the folly of opposing a Luthor.

Jor-El, although ruthless in the pursuit of what he deemed important goals, differed. He fought his opponents, but always kept mindful of the innate dignity of each person, and tried to treat each honorably, as he conceived honor to be. That was why he had accepted Lionel's deal. He did not like the thought of overcoming Lionel's spirit and will; he found that abhorrent. Having a physical presence again, even shared, seemed to elate Jor-El. At times, Lionel actually sensed some delight in their wordless communications, a sense of camaraderie, almost of brotherhood.

Lionel absorbed some of this attitude, and mentally recoiled. Confusion and doubt tore through his previous library of attitude and behavior, his previous self-confidence. He did not know how to play this game. Using Jor-El's attitudes, Lionel's carefully honed tactics of domination and intimidation were useless. Lionel was frightened; how was he to act now? Was there a different path? Might he have gone a different way? He did not know. The old ways seemed…inadequate…now.

He used his old methods on Jonathan Kent, the night Kent was elected Senator; implying the threat of exposure. He realized he had gotten more than he bargained for when Jonathan attacked him physically. Later, he realized that this must have incited Kent's fatal heart attack. When he learned of Jonathan Kent's death, he had an unaccustomed feeling of shame.

How ironic that only a week later, Clark Kent saved his life from the so-called Angel of Vengeance, a masked female vigilante with apparent meteor powers. She had asked: "If the person who killed your father was in front of you, what would you do?" Little did Clark know that was the actual situation.

Lionel realized that Clark had absorbed the teachings of both his biological and adopted fathers. Clark prevented the Angel from murdering him, but more for her sake than for Lionel's. At that moment, Lionel gained a new respect for Clark Kent. He knew Clark had reason to hate and fear him; had he been in Clark's shoes he would have let himself die.

He was grateful for the save, no matter what the reason, and carefully did not ask any awkward questions about how Clark could move across the room so quickly to grab Lionel before he could fall out the window. He watched Clark walk away; Jor-El radiated approval and pride.

Lionel kept a close eye on Clark; he looked on in wonder at the actual presence of an alien walking the Earth. He reviewed all his previous interactions with Clark Kent, re-interpreting them in the light of his new knowledge. He wondered about the extent of the Kryptonian powers; he had tasted them when Jor-El possessed him; they were intoxicating.

Then Clark had come out of the closet, overtly using his abilities in front of Lionel. Lionel and Martha had been trapped by a bitter ex-employee, a technological wizard who set up tests which were meant to be ultimately fatal. Lionel had refused to give in, but at the end, realized that he was not meant to survive. Plummeting earthwards in an out-of-control elevator, he had resigned himself to his fate and only regretted that Martha Kent would suffer as well.

Then, miraculously, the elevator stopped its plummet. Lionel had looked through the grated wire floor and seen Clark, easily, stopping their fall. Clark had taken his mother from the elevator, embraced her, then warily glanced at Lionel. Lionel turned away, looking at the Clark-sized hole in a six-inch-thick concrete wall, and felt weak with amazement. He knew in theory of Clark's superhuman powers; actually seeing Clark use them astounded and even frightened Lionel.

Later, Clark had come to him; Lionel told him of his knowledge and tried to reassure him that he would not betray Clark's secret. A part of him still danced in glee at the thought that he now had something on Clark Kent; he knew his secret and could use it to control Clark.

Those thoughts disappeared a few weeks later. Jor-El had communicated the urgency, the necessity of stopping the being masquerading as Professor Milton Fine. Lionel had come to Clark to enlist Clark's help. He did not know that Professor Fine had spun Clark a tainted story, a story that Clark believed to be true. In the darkness of the barn, Clark had said harsh words to Lionel, then come to him and beaten him. What was worse was the presence of Jonathan Kent. _How can he be here? He's dead! _Old legends, childhood stories, of the unquiet dead who would not rest until they obtained their revenge coursed through Lionel's mind.

The beating was terrifying; fear coursed through Lionel. Clark's otherworldly strength made resistance futile. Lionel drew on every power of oratory he had amassed over the years, hard as it was to concentrate while being tossed around and beaten. Jonathan Kent had urged Clark, vehemently, "Kill Lionel Luthor!" Lionel heard the words with fear, and pleaded for his life with the utmost sincerity.

He saw the indecision in Clark's face. Hope bloomed when he heard Clark say to Jonathan, "You're not my father". Then there was a bewildering montage of fighting and Jonathan Kent morphing into Professor Fine. Then Lionel blacked out; when he regained consciousness, he was standing in front of Clark, who was breathing heavily. He realized that he must have been possessed by Jor-El once again. Clark later told him that he had destroyed Professor Fine, who had been impersonating Jonathan, by a touch.

"I didn't realize that shape-shifting was one of the miraculous array of Kryptonian abilities", Lionel said.

"It's not", Clark said flatly.

The events of the next few days took on an eerie surreality. He had shown Clark the results of his scribblings, pages upon pages of Kryptonian symbols which he could not translate. They had taken them to Chloe Sullivan.

Chloe Sullivan. Lionel definitely had mixed feelings about her. He hated her for escaping his grip, defying him, and giving the crucial evidence that convicted him of murder. He respected her for doing these same things; she had more balls than many men he had met. He admired her courage. If he were a younger man, he would make a play for her, as one of the few women worthy of him. Jor-El liked her; apparently she had saved Clark at the Arctic Fortress at some time previous; the emotion connected with almost losing Clark had given Jor-El's images stunning clarity.

Above all, she was important to Clark. Lionel, now fully vested in Jor-El's plan for Clark's destiny, lost his burning desire for revenge. He was willing to let bygones be bygones if she did the same. (He still reserved the right to make needling comments). Above all, he did not want to provoke Clark; the memory of almost dying at Clark's hands was very vivid. He knew that if he arranged some _accident_ for Chloe, and Clark found out about it (the odds were very good that Jor-El would let Clark know, or Clark might find it out himself) that Lionel would regret it. Exceedingly.

Their relationship became that of an armed truce. During the chaos of Dark Thursday, unwilling to lose the only other person (other than Martha Kent) who he knew shared Clark's secret, he had ordered his bodyguard to save Chloe from the rioters in the streets. Tied together by their knowledge, they devised a plan to save the world as best they could.

The Kryptonian symbols he had written spelled, "Zod is coming". Through Jor-El, he knew that Clark's mission was to kill the human who would be the vessel of Zod. He saw the knife from the Arctic Fortress, the equivalent of an enchanted sword. But then the quest had become deeply personal. Lex was the vessel of Zod; Clark would have to kill Lionel's own son. How could he acquiesce to this? Trapped between the foreknowledge of evil approaching, and the unbearable thought of losing his son, Lionel retreated. He could not, would not, give Clark any advice, make either choice. "Be careful what decision you make, Clark", he said.

On Dark Thursday, Lionel himself had lost his connection with Jor-El; it was a shocking void, a sudden amputation. Suddenly he was alone once more in his own head; but now he missed the majestic, yet kind, presence he had come to know over the past months. He scrabbled at the fading shreds of knowledge and memory; he thought he retained the meaning of some Kryptonian symbols; but he was bereft. He knew he had lost much, but in fate's cruelest joke, he could not know what he had lost; it had all gone with Jor-El.

He felt it was his price to pay for Lex being alive. Clark had not killed Lex; he had instead, evicted the demonic presence which had possessed Lex; saved him. Lionel was weak with relief. Again, Clark had gone another way, a way Lionel could not anticipate nor follow. Lionel, inside, was deeply grateful, and once again questioned if he himself could have made the same decisions that Clark had made. He thought not – Clark had a goodness, almost an innocence, about him that Lionel, stained, bitter, vengeful, could no longer even approach. He wondered, if he had hosted Jor-El for a longer time, if that would have changed his own thinking more; would he become more like Clark? He sighed. A moot point now, as Jor-El was gone.

In retrospect, he realized that he had hosted a god. And, as in all divine encounters, he was changed.


	9. Doing The Tourist Stuff

Lionel!" Martha said in a welcoming tone.

Lionel walked into the room and caught a glimpse of Chloe.

"Miss Sullivan", he said warily. He gave her an insincere smile. "I thought the media were excluded until the conference started tomorrow morning."

Chloe grimaced; he could tell that this was driving her crazy. "Mr. Luthor", she replied, as warily as him.

Clark interjected, "We've been told that security will escort reporters out of the hotel today."

Lionel grabbed his opportunity; it was too delicious to miss. "Well, I've heard that's the case, and I'm certain Luthorcorp Security has those instructions." He gave Chloe a more genuine smile. _Take that. _

Chloe glared back at him, knowing Lionel had her this time. _Bastard._

"Why don't you both tour the island? You could see some of the tourist sites. It would be a shame to come here and miss everything", Martha said, smoothing the waters.

Chloe sighed, bowing to the inevitable. "That's probably a good idea, Mrs. Kent", she said. "Do you think you'd be able to come with us?" She pointedly did not extend the invitation to Lionel.

"I'm sorry, Chloe. Part of my job as Senator is meeting and greeting, and this afternoon is an opportunity to do a lot of that in an informal way without the usual crush of reporters." She smiled at Chloe, easing the sting.

"All right", Chloe said, picking up her bag. "Clark?"

Clark hugged his mother, nodded at Lionel. He was just as happy to leave. Despite the connection with Jor-El, he still didn't trust Lionel. He would definitely prefer that Lionel stay far away from Martha, too, but he deferred to his mother's wishes in this regard. Clark knew that Martha felt they had to keep Lionel close because he knew Clark's secret; what he didn't know was if Martha had feelings for Lionel, and if so, how deep these feelings ran. He definitely did not want to think about that. The loss of his father was still raw. The thought of Lionel Luthor – _Lionel Luthor!_ -- making a move on his mother angered him. The thought of unleashing his anger on Lionel, or an ordinary human, frightened him. He'd been told so often by his parents he had to maintain control. Frankly, he feared what his unrestrained anger could do. The solution to his dilemma was to avoid situations where Martha and Lionel were together in his presence.

Clark and Chloe exited Martha's hotel room. As they left, Clark could hear Lionel saying, "I can introduce you to the chairman of United Technologies. I have hopes that you'll meet the chairmen of the Big Three as well." Clark deliberately did not use his enhanced hearing, letting the rest of Lionel's talk fade out.

Chloe looked at Clark, striding resolutely along the hotel corridor, a frown on his face. "How now, brown cow?" she teased him. Lionel's attraction to Martha had not escaped her; she didn't dare discuss it with Clark. With an obvious effort of will, Clark pasted a smile on his face.

"Why don't we go and check out the tourist attractions?" he said, obviously trying to keep a light-hearted tone.

"Good plan", Chloe replied as she looked behind them. Several security guards unobtrusively followed them, content to leave them alone as long as they were headed towards the exits. Chloe looked back at the security guards. "I think we're as welcome here today as poison ivy at a nudist camp."

They left the hotel, going outside into a wonderfully sunny day. They stopped on the hotel porch to see the lake view. The Grand Hotel, being on a hill, looked over the western side of the island, giving a stunning view of Lake Huron and the Mackinac Bridge.

They walked down the drive, to the street, and to the town. Once again they walked through the crowds of tourists. Chloe stopped at a booth: "Mackinac Island Carriage Tours".

"What do you think, Clark?"

"Sounds fine to me."

They paid for their tickets and sat down on bench seats on the large wagon. Two draft horses pulled the tourist conveyance. The driver introduced himself as Bob, and the two horses as Newton and Milo.

"Newton and Milo are geldings. It happens to all of us married men in time", the driver said, obviously launching into a comedy routine/prepared spiel. "The horses work three days out of every seven. They take people on carriage tours all summer. When it's winter, they're moved to the mainland. There's not enough pasture here on the island to support them."

The driver continued. "Here we pass the Astor house, built for William Astor, who managed the company's fur trade here on the island in the 1800's." Clark and Chloe relaxed in their seats, taking in the sights, enjoying the day. "And on your right you will see the Grand Hotel; it's the only five-star hotel in the world without valet parking." The tourists laughed. It only encouraged the driver.

The tour continued; the driver kept on making horrible jokes: "Yeah, Newton decided that he wanted to go to a bar", the driver said, slapping the reins on the left horse. "So he walked in, and the bartender said, 'Why the long face?'" Groans from the tourists. The carriage moved away from the town, up to the woods in the center of the island.

Chloe looked at Clark. A reluctant smile teased at his lips. The driver continued his patter as the carriage made its way through the forest.

"Eighty percent of Mackinac Island is state park land. On your right you will see a hundred-year-old beech tree; you can tell it's a beech by the sign posted on it." Chloe looked at the sign; it said, in large letters, **Beech**.

The driver continued. "Notice the seedling next to it; this is a sapling from the original tree. In other words, it's a son of a beech." Groans again. The puns continued throughout the entire tour, mixed with actual historical information. The tour ended at Fort Mackinac, a Revolutionary War Fort now staffed by historical re-enactors.

Clark glanced at Chloe. "I think I'd rather skip this", she said.

"Me too."

The two of them walked down a steep hill. Clark stood at the top of the hill. He was near the west fort entrance; the fort commanded the heights. A switchbacking ramp led from the lake-level shore to the hundred-foot elevation of the fort. He and Chloe walked down the ramp, back to town.

Chloe stopped to get a drink at the public drinking fountain at the small park below the fort. She saw tourists riding bicycles; one couple pedaled a tandem bike.

"That's what I want to do", she decided.

It was a matter of moments to make their way to the bicycle livery and rent a red tandem bicycle. Clark obediently took the rear seat. They pedaled away, avoiding tourists, horses, and horse manure.

"What next?" asked Clark.

"I want to go around the whole island", said Chloe. She started humming, "Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer true…" Clark joined in, his baritone joining with her alto in a triumphant, "bicycle built for two!"

State Highway 185 ran the circumference of the island. Clark enjoyed the mild exercise in the bright sunshine. The plashing of the waves on the rocky beaches of the shoreline was a constant muffled susurrus. The lake breeze cooled them down as they pedaled. Seagulls perched on boulders, mewling loudly as they passed. Chloe subconsciously expected a salty tang to the air, but didn't get it. Then she realized that the lakes were freshwater, and they smelled entirely different.

"Penny for your thoughts, Clark", she said. They'd both been quiet as they pedaled for about the last three miles.

He remained silent for a moment. "I was thinking about my father", he said quietly.

"Your father?" Chloe prompted.

"I remember how, on days like this, he'd always tell me to appreciate it. I'd want to get doing the chores and he'd be the one to sit back and look at the sunset." Clark's voice rang with the sadness of missed opportunities. Chloe didn't know what to say.

They pedaled on in silence. As Clark viewed the blue lake, the large white clouds in the sky, the tangled undergrowth in the woods on the other side of the road, a small knot in his heart eased. For six months he had been mourning his father's death, stuck in a gray zone of grief. As he rode in the bright sunshine, it was as if some small part of his grief lifted from his soul and dissolved. _Life is good_, Clark thought, taking a deep breath. He smiled and warned Chloe, "Take your feet off the pedals!"

"Why?"

"Just do!"

She lifted her feet from the pedals, supported them on the bike crossbar. Clark began pedaling with just a bit of superspeed. They shot past other tourists. The breeze tangled Chloe's hair, whistling past her face.

Clark yelled for her to take a left-hand turn at the road coming up ahead. They stopped for a moment at the intersection.

"According to my map, this is British Landing Road, so-called because in the War of 1812, the British made an amphibious landing here and took the fort", Chloe said. "It says specifically not to take this road from here because it's uphill all the way." Clark just smiled.

They got back on the bike. Chloe discovered the map was right – the road _was _uphill all the way. She also discovered that it didn't matter, not when your bike-pedaling pal was unaffected by such mere matters as a thirty-degree rise. Clark kept them going at a steady pace. Chloe looked back at him; he wasn't even breathing hard. She relaxed and enjoyed the ride.

They came to the approximate center of the island. Mackinac Island had a high central spine. The terrain ranged from a gentle slope to the lake at the southern end of the island, which allowed the two streets of the village to exist, to high bluffs on the eastern and western ends of the island. Expensive mansions dotted the terrain on the East and West Bluffs, each on top of a sheer cliff, looking over the lake below. Chloe wondered how much it would cost to own one of these houses, with its spacious veranda, immaculate landscaping, and incomparable lake view.

They wandered through the maze of roads and paths in the central island, meeting few tourists. Most tourists preferred to stay in the village near the ferry docks. Clark and Chloe pedaled to the tiny airport, looked at the rows of small planes. They stopped at the small military cemetery, containing the graves of soldiers who had died while on duty at Fort Mackinac, before the latter was closed in 1883.

They said little to each other, both lost in their own thoughts. For both, it was a true vacation, a time away from normal cares and responsibilities of daily life. Knowing that you were on an island, that you had to take a boat to get back to your daily routine, was a curiously liberating experience. Chloe found herself slowing down, her mind for once not going full throttle, churning at maximum rpm's. She gave a sigh and began breathing deeper and slower.

Clark sighed too. The bicycle slowed to barely walking pace.

"What?" Chloe asked.

"Do you mind if we stop here?" Clark said.

"OK with me."

They got off the bike in a sun-drenched meadow. The green grass rippled as a light breeze wafted over. Clark sat down, looking at the faint silhouette of the Mackinac Bridge, barely visible in the distance. A light mist arising from the lake blurred its outlines.

"Tell me again why we're here", he said.

Chloe sat down next to Clark. "Well, you're here because Oliver Queen asked you to be my bodyguard. And I'm here because an informant at Luthorcorp gave me some very interesting information about new technology coming out."

"Go on", he said evenly. Chloe looked around – no other person was in sight.

"Clark, do me a favor – look for bugs."

"Bugs?"

"Listening devices! Video cameras! Use your X-ray vision!" She said exasperatedly.

Clark looked around at the empty meadow and gave her an "are you crazy" look.

"Please, Clark", she said pleadingly, her exasperation fading.

He said nothing, but scrunched up his face again, and got the 'using the x-ray vision' look she had come to know. He looked at their tandem bicycle, their bags, the meadow and trees, and last of all, at themselves.

"You know, I've always wondered…" Chloe asked

"What?"

"Can you see inside yourself with your x-ray vision?" She was interested.

"Yes." He said it curtly.

"What's it like?"

"I look human." He still seemed a little short, a little curt.

She smiled. She figured that Clark didn't like looking at her with x-ray vision; one time he'd told her that he felt he was invading her privacy. He didn't like to do that to his friends.

"Any bugs? Are we clean?"

"We're clean, and Chloe, you're paranoid."

"You think so now, Clark, but wait till you hear what I have to tell you."

She quickly filled in Clark on what Saul Stein had told her about the "transporter beam" device. She noted that his reaction was the same as hers had been – e.g., disbelief.

"Come on!" he said sarcastically. "This sounds like something out of a bad science fiction story. Transporter beams! Accelerating nuclear decay! Do you really believe this?"

She stood up and began pacing around. "I'm not sure. It really does sound fantastic. But my informant believed it to be true. And he's never let me down before."

Clark looked troubled. "If it is true, how could any company or country turn down this technology? Luthorcorp would have a monopoly on the greatest technical advance since…since…radio. Or something."

"And even if it's not true…" Chloe tailed off.

"What?" Clark said.

"What Oliver said to me. To make it work, they're using powdered kryptonite, along with nuclear isotopes they get from the Metropolis Nuclear Power Plant."

"Isotopes?"

"Primarily plutonium, but also radium, polonium, uranium, and americium."

"Some of those have pretty long half-lives, depending on the isotope", Clark said. He seemed more concerned now.

Chloe continued. "Oliver was saying that he's been getting rumblings from his network – maybe people don't really know about the new technology, or don't believe it'll work – but they do hear when nuclear material is removed from the safeguards and security protocols at the Power Plant. People tend to hear about things like this that are out of the ordinary. And there are any number of shady groups out there who would like to get hold of radioactive material."

"They couldn't make a nuclear device –"

"Not from these isotopes, I gather, but there would be nothing stopping them from making a grand terrorist gesture like spreading radioactive dust all over. Clark, what if they threatened to dump the isotopes into the Great Lakes?"

"A third of America gets its drinking water from the Great Lakes." He looked pale at the thought. "Chloe, if this is true…"

"My informant told me that the device looks like a brick. He said that the kryptonite and isotopes are in one end, sealed in by lead."

"Did he say anything else?"

"He said that the other end of the brick was computer hardware."

Clark had a sudden bad thought. "Chloe, where is this thing? And is there only one?"

"I think there's only one prototype – my informant led me to believe that."

"Where? Is it at the Luthorcorp plant? What kind of security is there?"

"Oh no…" realization hit Chloe. "Of course Lex would bring it here and show it off."

"If Lex brought it here, that means that he either has more or can make more. He's a cautious guy", Clark said bitterly.

Pieces of the puzzle suddenly came together for Chloe. "I don't think so, Clark", she said slowly. "I got a very strong impression from my informant that he's going to make sure that Luthorcorp won't be able to make any more of these." Clark looked at her in surprise. "Please don't ask me more questions about that, Clark", she said.

Clark stopped pacing and sat down. "So what we have is this device. Everybody wants it, either because of the new technology, or because of what's in it. The only thing keeping it safe right now is that nobody knows all about it, and after Lex demonstrates it, it won't be radioactive anymore."

"Right."

"Except that it's radioactive right now." Clark drummed his fingers.

"But the radioactivity is sealed in lead." Chloe crossed her fingers and wished she had a lucky rabbit's foot to rub.

"Hopefully it'll stay sealed. And hopefully nobody really knows a lot about it." Clark looked more concerned than ever. "Except that you know about it. And maybe a bunch of other people, too, if Oliver is hearing rumors."

"Right."

"So maybe you really need me as a bodyguard after all." Chloe looked at him; once again he had the "weight-of-the-world-responsibilities" look on his face.

"And maybe I don't really need you. Maybe nothing will happen. Maybe we should just sit here and enjoy the day, and actually take an afternoon's vacation!" She kept an optimistic tone in her voice.

"Yeah, right…" his voice tailed off.

"Clark, there's not a lot we can do right here and now. We just have to be alert."

"Yeah…."

"And it's not like I like asking you to do this! I hate needing a bodyguard! I woldn't have done it if Oliver hadn't made it a condition of my coming here! And I hate asking you, you've saved me so many times already, I don't want to abuse our friendship…" she stopped, not really sure where her rant was going.

Clark gave her a look. "You know, you've saved me too. I thought we'd stopped counting."

"Well…"

"And I did get a free vacation out of it. Even if it's only a vacation afternoon. And I got to see Mackinac Island, where I never would have gone if you hadn't asked." His voice was joking. Then he spoke more seriously. "Chloe, you're my best friend. You can ask me anything."

Chloe sat down next to Clark. She looked him in the eye. "The same goes for me, you know."

"I know", he said softly. "I said it right at the beginning, when I told you. You're a good friend, Chloe."

Chloe said mischievously, "Well, speaking of asking anything, how about that picnic lunch now?"

"Good idea." They unpacked their lunch from their bags. Somehow, the simple sandwiches and water tasted better when eaten after a long bike ride, in the cool lake air, outdoors in a sunny meadow.

"Take a break before we start pedaling again?" Clark suggested.

"Why not? We've got nowhere we have to be." She looked at the clouds. "God, what a beautiful day it is. Look at that sky."

They laid down, staring up into the blue sky. The thick grass cushioned them. She reached for Clark's hand, grasped it. They both lay in silence, breathing in the northern summer air.

"Chloe?" Clark asked.

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you a favor? Kind of a personal one?"

"What?" she asked curiously.

"I'd like to look at you."

Chloe turned and gave him a "You're doing that already" look.

"No, I mean with the X-ray vision." Clark looked embarrassed.

Chloe was intrigued. "Why?"

"Well, you know…" Clark didn't seem able to articulate his thoughts. He continued, "I've noticed that being around me, a lot of people seem to get hurt." He looked sad. "When people get injured, I want to know how bad it is, what their injury is."

Chloe nodded.

"And I realized that to figure out the abnormal, I have to know the normal first. So I'd like to look at you, as a normal woman, and see what things are like."

Chloe was taken aback a little. "It makes sense", she agreed, slowly. Then she said, in realization, more quickly, "You could do that any time, couldn't you?"

"Yes", he said. "I could. But it would be wrong to do that to you without your consent. I mean, an occasional glimpse to check out an injury is one thing, but this…"

Chloe was touched. "I appreciate that, Clark. _Of course_ you can look at me." She chuckled. "Can I charge you tuition for anatomy classes?"

He gave her a small smile. "Sure you're OK with it?"

"I'm OK."

He sat up and focused his vision. He started with her arm, going through the skin, seeing the muscles and tendons. "Could you please move your arm?"

"How?"

"Any motion."

She flexed and extended her elbow, made a fist, released it. Clark watched, awed by the smooth stretching and contracting of the muscles, seeing their attachments to the bone, marveling at the intricate array of tendons and connective tissue in the hand. A roughness in the smooth surface of the radius and ulna – "Did you break your arm?"

"Remember that time I fell out of Lex's window? I broke it then."

"Oh. The kryptonite tattoo walk-through-walls robber gang." He was embarrassed he'd forgotten.

He switched his gaze to her feet, again starting with the shoe and sock, going deeper till he reached the bone. "Can you move your feet, please?"

She pointed all her toes, arched her foot, rotated her ankle. Clark looked at the shock-absorbing connective tissue on the bottom of the foot. He moved his gaze up her leg. Her calf muscles seemed a little more swollen, the blood vessels a little more dilated, than he remembered from previous glimpses. _It's probably from riding the bike_, he thought.

Chloe lay back on the grass, watching Clark watch her. He looked fascinated. She got a little embarrassed as his gaze moved up to her pelvis, but he said nothing. He looked higher, in the abdomen and chest areas, engrossed in whatever it was he was seeing. She couldn't stand it anymore.

"What?" she asked.

"Chloe…um…you're so cool", Clark said a note of wonder in his voice, turning his head to look her directly in the eyes. "Thanks so much for letting me do this."

"Cool?"

"I wish I could show it to you the way I'm seeing it. I can see your heart beating, and the blood going down the arteries. When you breathe, I see your lungs expanding, the diaphragm moving up and down, your liver moves too. It just all fits together so right…" he trailed off, not having the words to describe what he felt, the beauty of things working just as they should, a compact package that was the body of Chloe Sullivan.

"You know…" she said.

"What?"

"One time I was doing a story, and I got to be there when a vet was doing surgery on a dog that swallowed a sock." Her eyes assumed a distant expression as she remembered. "It was pretty cool seeing the intestines and the organs hauled out on the surgery table." Then she frowned. "The sock smelled pretty bad when they took it out, though."

"How'd the dog do?" Clark asked, interested.

"He was a big goofy Lab – I checked on him the next day and he was romping around", Chloe said. Clark looked relieved.

"So you kind of know."

"Well, not like you, but I can understand the feeling."

Clark grinned. "They say beauty is only skin deep, but you're beautiful to the bone."

"Gee, thanks, Clark." Chloe said, half-mockingly. "Other guys compliment you on your hair; you compliment me on my spleen."

"It's a very nice spleen…"

"Oh, just go ahead." She leaned back and closed her eyes. Strange how you could almost _feel_ someone looking at you. A sense of quiet and peace stole over Chloe. She slipped into a meditative state that soon became sleep.

Clark continued to watch her till she fell asleep. He gazed at her, fascinated by the changes in heartbeat, respiration, blood flow to the brain. He saw her rapid eye movements and wondered what she was dreaming about. He looked at himself; so human-looking and yet so different.

He remembered a passage from the Bible. "We are fearfully and wonderfully made", he said quietly, quoting from the Psalm.

He stared at her a bit longer, then lay down and joined Chloe in sleep.


	10. Stuff Happens

Chloe awoke to find twilight approaching, and herself wrapped around Clark. His arms were around her. The temperature had dropped, and his body gave off welcome warmth. As her body changed from relaxation to alertness, he woke up too. A brief embarrassment flashed through his eyes. He let her go, and they both got up. Neither said anything; it was as if their time in the meadow was an idyll, a dream that hadn't really happened.

"Time to return the bike", Clark suggested.

"OK."

They pedaled back to town; Chloe found herself wishing for a jacket now that night was approaching. Clark slowed down as they came back to town; tourists still thronged the streets. The pedestrian traffic was thick enough that they dismounted and walked the bike back to the livery office. Returning it, they collected the remainder of their deposit.

As Chloe exited the livery office, she saw Lois in the street, talking with Clark.

"Lois!" Chloe said.

"Chloe!" Lois replied. She was in her running gear. "I've been doing the senatorial thing all afternoon. God, talk about dry as dust! I had to get out."

"How's my mother?" Clark asked.

"Doing just fine. Making good impressions. Cultivating donors." Lois said teasingly. She smiled. "Hey, Ollie and I are going out for dinner as soon as I'm back from my run. Why don't you join us?" Lois extended the invitation as she bounced on her feet, obviously ready to resume her run.

"Why not?" Chloe said. Clark nodded. _It's not like we have any specific plans, and this is a good excuse to meet Ollie._

"OK! Horn's Bar at seven o'clock! Bye!" Lois jogged off.

Martha headed wearily back to her hotel room. Although she could see the sunny day through the windows, she had spent the entire afternoon talking, meeting, and greeting. Lois had been invaluable, whispering reminders and pertinent information, but the stress of constantly being on display had worn on Martha. She would be happy to rest in her room for a time before dinner.

As she walked down the carpeted hall, a door opened. Lana Lang stepped out.

"Mrs. Kent!"

"Lana! How are you doing?"

"Well, I spent the entire afternoon sleeping. I was so tired!" Lana still looked a little worn.

"Are you feeling better now?" Martha asked.

"Oh yes, I feel fine now." Lana remembered her manners. "How are you doing?"

"I'm looking forward to getting outside and enjoying the day some." Martha felt the urge to stretch her legs. "You too?"

Lana's reply was cut off by a bluff greeting from the opposite end of the hall.

"Hello, Senator!" Oliver Queen's voice brought a smile to Martha's face.

She stepped forward to meet him and he saw Lana.

"Miss Lang." His voice was cool.

"Mr. Queen." They shook hands. He turned back to Martha.

"Senator—"

"Oh, please call me Martha."

"Only if you call me Oliver." They both grinned. "Lois and I are going out to dinner as soon as she comes back from her run. I was wondering if you wanted to go with us, and you too, Miss Lang, if you don't have other plans."

The offer tempted Martha. "Well, dinner is included with our hotel room…"

"You'll get a chance for that tomorrow. Come and walk downtown and enjoy the day!" Oliver cajoled.

Martha looked at Lana. Lana said quietly, "Lex said that he would be busy all through dinnertime with preparations for tomorrow."

Lana's face seemed pale. Martha thought, _She needs to get out._ "We accept", she said firmly.

"Great!" Oliver smiled. "Seven o'clock, Horn's Bar. It's only a block from the fort. Do you want me to walk you there?"

Martha looked at Lana. Lana shook her head slightly. "No thanks", Martha said. "We'll meet you there."

Saul didn't look over his shoulder as he left Luthorcorp for what he hoped was the last time. For some reason, he remembered the stories – what happened to Lot's wife, how Orpheus lost Eurydice. _Don't look back._ Good advice at any time, he thought.

He and Don drove off, saying good-night to the parking lot guard as they had a hundred times before. Saul kept a steady voice, disguising the churning in his stomach. In another four hours, his virus program would take effect, and then all his bridges would be well and truly burned.

"Don? You OK?" he asked.

"Fine, Saul", Don replied. "What's the plan again?"

"Sorry to be so cloak-and-dagger about it, Don", Saul said gently. In fact, he hadn't wanted to give Don any details till the last minute; he knew that Don was constitutionally unable to keep a secret. "We head to your apartment; pick up your things; then we'll meet the Queen Industries guy and he'll have us on a plane to Star City right away. You're all packed, I hope?"

"Well…" Don looked guilty.

Saul felt exasperated. "Do you need a little help with the last bits?" he said, mentally kicking himself. He _knew_ Don was like this; he should have anticipated this. Now they were going to be delayed.

"Yes", Don said meekly.

The fog grew thicker as they drove the four miles to Don's apartment. Saul looked in and sighed – Don hadn't really done much packing at all.

"Does this have to go?" Saul said with forced cheerfulness as he picked up a dog-eared notebook.

"Uh-huh. And that, and that, and that too…" Don mumbled. "What about my books?" He seemed most concerned about the latter.

"Don, we're going to get all your books packed up and sent to you, you know that." Actually, Oliver Queen's man was supposed to take care of that, among other things. "Let's just get the basics."

One hour later, Saul was gritting his teeth with the effort of keeping his mouth shut. Packing had become an exercise in negotiation on the level of a peacekeeping mission at the UN. By dint of repeating "Just the basics" over and over, he'd managed to keep Don down to two overstuffed suitcases and his laptop.

He took Don's gear downstairs, and threw it into the trunk of his car. Don followed, carrying his laptop. Don's face was curling up in an expression that Saul knew too well – Don was getting an idea, or working on a refinement of an old idea. He'd be off in his own head for awhile.

Saul thought about calling Oliver Queen's man. They had agreed on ninety minutes for unexpected delays, and they were approaching that time. He pulled out his phone, looked at it, and put it back in his pocket. He didn't want to leave a record of numbers called if he could avoid it.

He belted in, and pulled out of the apartment parking lot. It was only a few minutes drive to the rendezvous site; he expected no troubles with traffic at this time of night. He stopped at a traffic light; headlights on high-beam from a large SUV behind him reflected off his mirrors and ruined his night vision.

Saul swung over to the right lane to allow the SUV to pass. It moved right, and stayed behind him. A cold worm of worry started crawling in Saul's gut. He drove faster; the SUV stayed on his tail. He drove faster yet; _where's a traffic cop when you need one?_ He began to get very very nervous.

He made it to the pre-arranged rendezvous spot and flashed his lights as he had been instructed. Suddenly, and with a loud crunch of crushing metal, the SUV rear-ended them. _Oh shit. _He kicked himself – why hadn't he worn his gun?

With no time to think two men were at the driver and passenger windows, holding guns on them.

"Get out", one said flatly.

Saul stared at the gun and the man. His mind raced, trying to figure out who knew, was the Luthorcorp plan blown, was it Queen Industries _no it wouldn't be them, we're coming to them voluntarily_, was it someone else? A million thoughts jumbled his brain, leaving him paralyzed.

"Get out", the man repeated. Don unbuckled and obeyed. _Don, don't do that!_ Saul thought. The second man pointed the gun at Don and looked at Saul. "Get out", he repeated. His finger tightened on the trigger. Saul looked at it for a moment, then got out of the car.

"Where is the device?" the man asked, his pistol barrel never wavering.

"I don't know", Saul said.

The man stared at him. "Don't fuck with me! Where is it?"

"I tell you, I don't know!" Saul said.

"Wrong answer", the man said flatly. He shot Don between the eyes. Saul gasped as Don's body slowly crumpled to the wet pavement. "Don!" he said, despairingly.

"One last time. Where is the device?" the man asked again.

Saul stared at Don's body. He was numb. "Lex Luthor took it", he whispered.

The man gave a tight little smile. He pointed the gun at Saul. _This is it,_ Saul thought, and braced himself.

"You didn't tell me right away", the man said. He frightened Saul, in his single-mindedness. "I don't like it when I have to wait." He lowered the gun from Saul's eye level. Then he shot Saul in the abdomen.

Saul fell down, clutching his abdomen, noticing blood well out between his fingers, feeling agonizing pain. He heard someone screaming and realized it was himself. He looked up and saw the man, still with that tight little smile, pointing the gun at his head.

Then there was a muffled pop! and the man fell over. Saul was losing consciousness now, but he saw the other gunman drop too. Oliver Queen's man came up behind them and knelt before Saul. Saul saw him pull out his phone and say, "I need an ambulance here". As he took Saul's hand, Saul slipped into blessed unconsciousness.


	11. An Awkward Dinner

Clark and Chloe grabbed a large table at the bar. Dark wooden paneling, hung with photos of the building as it appeared in the late 1800's, gave a homey appearance. Some whitetail deer antlers and taxidermied lake trout hung on plaques near the ceiling. A polished wooden bar ran the entire length of the building; stacks of clean glassware sat in front of the mirror on the wall behind the bar. The murmur of diner's conversations and the clinking of silverware provided enough background noise to foil eavesdroppers.

Lois and Oliver walked into the bar. "Over here!" Chloe called, gesturing to the seats they had saved.

Lois greeted them warmly, but Oliver seemed a little nonplussed. "What?" Lois asked.

"Well, in the hotel, I ran into Mrs. Kent---" Oliver's explanation tailed off as Martha and Lana walked into the bar.

Lana stopped as she saw Clark, the smile disappearing from her face.

"I ran into Mrs. Kent and Miss Lang, and invited them both to dinner", Oliver finished his explanation.

"I ran into Clark and Chloe and invited _them _for dinner", Lois retorted. She looked at Clark. He stared at Lana.

Lana looked back at Clark, hesitating at the door. Martha looked at her, distressed at the awkward situation. Then Lana squared her shoulders and came to the table. Clark and Oliver arose as she approached.

"Hello, Clark, Chloe", she said quietly.

"Hello", they replied. Silence at the table as the tension mounted. Oliver took control.

"Everybody, please have a seat", he said. There was a general dignified scramble. Clark and Lana were on the same side of the table, separated by Chloe. Oliver sat opposite Clark, Martha opposite Lana, with Lois in between. A waitress came by to deliver menus and take drink orders.

Chloe's ready wit deserted her. She was good friends with both Lana and Clark, but lately had spent more time trying to keep them from meeting. It was difficult being the confidante of both. Sometimes she had to bite her tongue. Lana bemoaned Clark's lack of trust; Chloe knew his secret and why he felt he couldn't trust Lana with it. Sometimes she wanted to tell Lana, "He's an alien! Get over it!" just to see the expression on her face and watch her realize why all the weird stuff seemed to happen around Clark.

Oliver broke the awkward silence with a series of incredibly lame bar jokes. "A priest, a minister, and a rabbi walk into a bar. The bartender says, 'What is this, some kind of joke?'" Lana smiled a little.

"A jumper cable walks into a bar. The bartender says, 'OK, I'll serve you, but don't start anything.'" Groans from the table.

"A skeleton walks into a bar. He tells the bartender, 'Give me a beer and a mop.'" Chloe burst out laughing; the joke was so stupid she just couldn't help it. That broke the ice, and soon more normal conversation started.

Martha talked about her afternoon. Chloe followed with a brief travelogue of the sights she had seen that afternoon. Lois chimed in with a discussion of the luxury of the Grand Hotel. Clark and Lana said nothing.

The waitress brought their orders. Lois and Oliver had beer. Martha had wine. Chloe happily sipped a fruity drink with a little umbrella in it. Clark looked at Lana; she usually had wine but tonight sipped at a fruit juice. Clark himself didn't like the taste of beer; alcohol did nothing for him. He took a Coca-Cola. Oliver raised his glass in a toast. "Health and happiness!" he said, a fairly neutral sentiment, offensive to no one. Everyone gave a murmur of agreement, and took a drink.

Lois began conversation on some light topic, and soon Chloe, Lana, and Martha were chiming in. The conversation edged over into the "girl talk" area, and Oliver looked at Clark and smiled. Obviously their opinions were not wanted right now.

Clark found himself smiling, unaccustomedly free of responsibility, with nothing to do other than enjoy the evening. No chores to do, no meetings to attend, no time to spend trying to stretch the budget on a farm where each dollar needed to do three dollars work.

He looked around and realized, almost in surprise, that he was happy. It was a moment he would long remember. He was together with his friends, laughing, over good food and drink, convivial at the end of a beautiful day. Perhaps happiness came only rarely; he felt blessed that he had recognized it this time, seized it, enjoyed it when it came. It could not last, but right here, right now, he savored the moment.

Somehow the conversation turned to Jonathan Kent. Chloe and Lois began reminiscencing, telling stories of him. Martha gave a little smile and talked about Clark's younger days and how Jonathan would have to discipline him. Clark was forced to tell his side of the story in self-defense, and somehow, amongst the impromptu wake, Lana spoke up and added her tales. Before Clark knew it, he and Lana were talking without strain, tied together in their memory of a good man. The awkwardness fell away. Soon they were laughing together.

Oliver listened, not participating in the conversation. He sat with his back to the wall, carefully watching each person who entered the bar, keeping an eye on patrons already inside. He caught a glimpse of his Queen Industries bodyguard; the man kept a low profile, but had been assigned to follow Lois and was keeping on the job. Oliver noticed with interest that his man was sharing a table with another suit-clad man, their business suits out of place at a bar where everyone else wore casual clothing. Oliver knew the other man to be Luthorcorp Security; Oliver assumed that he'd been sent to as Lana's bodyguard.

A feeling of _something not quite right_ came over him as he looked a table where two men sat. Outwardly tourists by their clothing, they seemed a little too intense, a little too interested in the people at Oliver's table. He looked at them for awhile, not staring, but taking occasional glances. He memorized their faces.

The flood of reminiscence slowed. Oliver raised his glass. "A toast to Jonathan Kent", he said. "A good man who I wish I'd known." The others clinked glasses and drank.


	12. At The Grand Hotel

Back at the Grand Hotel, Lex greeted Lana at their room with a kiss. "I'm sorry I couldn't go to dinner with you", he apologized.

"It worked out ok. I ran into Mrs. Kent and Lois and we had dinner together." Lana took off her earrings. She deliberately said nothing about Oliver, Chloe, and Clark, not wanting to upset Lex. _He'd stay up late, obsessing, _she thought. Lana knew he would find out about her dinner companions, but hopefully that wouldn't be till tomorrow morning, ensuring that they both got a good night's sleep.

"Did you enjoy the hotel dining? It's one of the best restaurants in a two-hundred mile radius."

Lex looked surprised as Lana replied.

"Actually, we walked down to town, and ate at a bar there." She reached over and caressed his hand. "I wanted my first meal in the Grand to be with you."

Lex smiled appreciatively.

"Lex, it's been a long day, and I'm ready for bed." Lana said firmly. That was the gospel truth.

In a few moments time, she was snuggled in bed, Lex beside her. Her breathing steadied into sleep rhythms. Lex waited some time, being sure she was deeply asleep. Then he returned to the other room of their suite, and began working on his computer again.

Clark woke up before dawn. It wasn't only that his body was conditioned to the farming schedule. It was the noise of harness jingling and hoofbeats on the concrete pavement that woke him. He looked out of their window; horse-drawn wagons were delivering supplies to the numerous restaurants and watering holes in the town. As the entire town was only two streets, each only about a mile long, every delivery address seemed to be within hearing distance.

Chloe tossed in her bed. "What?" she mumbled.

"I'm going out for a little run", Clark said, dressing at super-speed.

"OK", she said blurrily, then put the pillow over her head and (presumably) went back to sleep as Clark quietly left their room, locking the door behind him.

He climbed down the wooden stairs quickly, drawn to the lobby of the hotel by the tantalizing aroma of chocolate fudge. Manfully, he strode by the tempting samples, not taking one.

He walked out of the hotel into another beautiful day. The sun barely peeked over the eastern horizon. The air was fresh and clean. Clark began jogging; as he left the town and looked around for witnesses (finding none), he slipped into superspeed. He ran the entire circumference of the island eight times, feeling energized by the strong rays of the sun. Returning to the town, he dropped once more into a regular human running pace, and stopped at a coffee shop. He got two extra-large lattes, and returned to their room.

Chloe was up by now, sitting on the bed in her robe, looking blank. He offered her coffee. It was like watching a time-lapse video of a bud blossoming. Alertness came into her eyes. Her expression perked up. Her nostrils sniffed the heavenly odor of a caffeinated beverage.

"Clark, you got coffee!" That was all she seemed capable of saying. She drained a quarter of the latte in one gulp. That seemed to give her the energy to stand. She still looked a little dazed.

Clark knew she wouldn't be good for much until she had her first cup. He claimed the bathroom, showering and getting dressed for the day ahead. He left the room and went down to the lobby while she showered and dressed, coming back a short time later. She was in her power suit, looking appropriately businesslike. Her only concession to the day ahead was wearing flats instead of heels. A conference badge, pinned to the left side of her blouse, guaranteed admission.

Clark put on his tie and jacket, and pinned on his conference badge. "Ready?" he asked.

"Ready." Together they walked the short distance to the Grand Hotel.

Security was heavy. Their credentials were checked several times before they made it into the conference areas. Uniformed Michigan State Police supervised the actions of hotel security and (presumably) corporate security. Clark glanced around, mentally trying to tag each person as "security" or "regular".

He looked over at the familiar-looking back of a large man. The man turned around, and Clark went to him, giving a large smile as he walked over.

"William!" Clark said. "Good to see you!"

"Good to see you too, Clark", William replied. "How are you doing? And how is your mother?"

"She's doing great, and so am I. How's Rayna doing?"

"Just started ninth grade, and getting all A's."

"I knew she would." Clark looked at Chloe, who walked up.

"Chloe, I don't know if you've met William?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Chloe Sullivan, William Johnson. William, Chloe. We're here on assignment for the Daily Planet."

Chloe and William shook hands. Clark said, "William is one of Lex's security guards. I got to know the security staff pretty well –" he hesitated for a moment. Chloe mentally filled in the void, _Back when you were friends with Lex._

"We sure miss your mom's homebaked cookies", William said, smoothing over the awkward pause.

"Yes, and I miss you all. Here to take care of Lex at the conference?"

"Yeah, there's me, and Cyrus, and Lars", William said.

"Only three?"

"Well, that's all they could afford." All three of them laughed. "No, really I think that they figured with all the governors and senators being here, and the State Police, and the hotel security, that we'd be enough."

William's phone buzzed. He looked at it, turned to Clark, and said, "Good to see you again, Clark. Do well."

As he turned away, Clark said softly, "Take good care of Lana, William."

William gave Clark a long stare. "I will." Then he was gone.

Chloe looked at Clark. "Homebaked cookies?"

He said defensively, "Well, you know, sometimes when I went in to see Lex he would be in a meeting or something. So I would hang around with the security guys or chat with the cook or something. Then, one time when my Mom was over, she talked with them too, and after that, a lot of times, she'd send me with a plate of cookies for the guys."

"Not the famous Kent chocolate chip recipe cookies?" Chloe said portentously, smiling.

"None other", Clark replied in the same tone. "Those cookies were pretty popular."

They mingled, wandering, getting an idea of the conference layout, the numerous rooms, the attendees. Clark could see Chloe mentally preparing a plan of attack – first choice interviewees, second choicers, backgrounders, etc. Her reverie was interrupted when Oliver Queen approached them.

"How are you?" he said, outwardly smiling, but in a low, urgent tone.

"OK. Oliver, what's up?" Chloe said, demanding an answer.

Oliver steered them into a quiet corner, looking at the crowd as he talked to them. "Bad news. I got word from my man this morning. Chloe, I assume you've updated Clark on the real reason I wanted you here?"

"Yes."

"I had arranged a, let's call it a _defection_, from some guys at Luthorcorp Research Labs last night. They were going to tell us about this new technology, whatever it is."

Chloe fought to keep expression off her face as she realized that she probably knew more about the new technology than Oliver did.

Oliver continued. "I just got word from my man. Someone else got to them first. One of them is dead. The other was shot in the gut and just got out of eight hours of surgery. He's in ICU and he's touch-and-go."

Chloe felt weak in the knees. She turned pale. _Is it Saul?_ "Do you know their names?" she asked.

"The dead guy is Don Partridge, and the wounded guy is, let's see, Saul Stein." Oliver looked sharply at her. She said nothing.

"I just wanted to warn you that things may be heating up. There's a chance that the trouble may spread here." He gave Clark a significant glance. "Clark, I'd hoped that I wouldn't have to call on you…"

"I'll be ready", Clark said quietly.

"I don't know for sure. I've just got a feeling that this isn't over", Oliver said.

Chloe understood that. "You learn to trust your gut", she said unexpectedly. The men looked at her, then at each other. They both nodded.

"Yes, Chloe, if you get a gut feeling, act on it, OK?" he asked. "You too, Clark."

"And you too", Chloe retorted.

"Will do", Oliver replied, smiling. Then a thought struck him.

"I think I have your cell phone numbers, but let me check." Oliver fumbled with his phone. "Let me give you mine, if you don't already have it." Clark and Chloe pushed buttons, putting Oliver on speed-dial.

Oliver looked at his watch. "I've got to get in there for the opening speech. Just wanted to warn you. Take care."

Clark and Chloe looked at each other, their expressions somber. "And so it begins", Clark said.

"Do you really think so?" Chloe said inanely.

"Chloe, I've seen what happens when people want something bad enough." He lowered his voice. "Remember the Kryptonian crystals?"

Chloe paled as she remembered the trail of blood carved by the desperate seekers. Only Clark's superpowers had allowed him to claim the crystals in the end, and even he had needed her help to do so.

"I think this is of the same magnitude", Clark said. "I'll hang around –"

"Don't do that, Clark! We have to get the story, and to do that, we have to split up!" Chloe was proud that her voice didn't waver.

Clark looked down at her. He knew it was useless to argue with her on a reportorial matter. "If you're not sure, Chloe, or if you get a, a _feeling_, you call me right away." He made his tone as serious as possible.

"I'll do that, Clark." She sounded fervent. Then she smiled. "Don't forget to pour on the super-speed."

He smiled back. "Hopefully, that's our ace in the hole." They separated. As he walked away, he had a sudden bad thought. _Didn't Chloe say there was powdered Kryptonite in the device?_


	13. Something's A Bit Off About Clark Kent

William strode back to Lex Luthor's room, thinking about Clark Kent. No lie, he did miss Martha Kent's homemade cookies. But that wasn't the only thing. It was just that there was something, well, a little off, about Clark.

William Johnson had been a NYPD cop for several years. He never thought he would ever end up in a place like Smallville, but a confluence of events had brought him there. His mother, who took care of his daughter Rayna while he worked, had died. He'd gotten a new lieutenant, who was a total asshole. He didn't mind putting his life on the line doing undercover narcotics work; he objected to his work being wasted by administrative screwups.

Rayna's school stank; the teachers tried hard but didn't get backup from the administration. They spent all their time babysitting and no time teaching. The final straw was when there had been a rape of a ten-year-old girl in Rayna's school; on a cop's salary, he didn't have enough money to send her to a private school.

And then he had heard from a friend of a friend that Lex Luthor was hiring private security.

"Hiring?"

"Yeah. Something about how he was in the loony bin, and came out, and fired all his security. Now he needs new people."

_Do I want to work for a crazy guy? Hell, it can't be worse than New York right now. _He sent in his application; the quick response was gratifying. He was flown to Smallville on a private jet, and offered the job, effective immediately, at a salary three times what he made in the NYPD. Apparently Lex Luthor had had security problems for some years, and, impressed by William's resume, offered him the chance to re-organize the department.

The clincher had been the last part of the deal; they would hire a housekeeper for him, for a house in Smallville; and Rayna could stay at the mansion when he was on duty and the housekeeper was off.

William hadn't regretted his bargain. He'd seen and heard a lot of things since he hired on, and his knowledge of billionaire dealings had increased several-fold. If he was in the room when Lex Luthor talked, he listened. He made the same stock moves that Lex made (in miniature, of course, compared to Lex), and his portfolio had appreciated tremendously. He'd also traveled around the world, seeing places he never thought he'd have been able to see, a New York slum kid like him. Staying in five-star hotels was a nice change too.

He'd certainly been kept busy as a bodyguard. Lex seemed to be an unpopular guy, and people had tried to kill him several times. William hadn't always been present. Gossip about Lex, his father, friends, and lovers, by the security team was constant; they considered it another method of learning trends and patterns to enhance their effectiveness. It had taken William several months to realize it, but when he reviewed the logs one night, he realized how many times Clark Kent had been there when Lex was in danger. Lex always walked away.

Of course, Clark Kent was there plenty of times when Lex wasn't in danger, either. Based on scuttlebutt from the kitchen staff, Clark had been friends with Lex for five years. William thought it was a little odd, a farm boy on such close terms with a billionaire, but the staff explained that Clark had saved Lex's life when Lex drove off a bridge. William had gotten to know Clark, and liked him. He appreciated the way Clark treated Rayna while they were both waiting; Clark seemed to be a natural gentleman who always extended respect and courtesy. And Mrs. Kent's cookies didn't hurt, either.

William had done a little research, and found out that things were, well, _weird_ in Smallville. More crazy stuff seemed to go down in a week than had happened in a month on the New York streets. On a per capita basis, it was amazing. What was more amazing was that everyone seemed to just accept it. _Oh, that's Smallville_!, people would say, resignedly. One time William had been in the 24-hour diner when the sheriffs and state police were having their coffee at shift change time (it had become an impromptu briefing session for those who were beginning their shifts); he was invited into the group by dint of his previous police experience. The meetings had become a regular event; he described it in his reports as _Liaison with local law enforcement. _

Later he'd talked one-on-one with the sheriff; she had some tales that made his toes curl. She told him some stuff she couldn't put in the official reports. She was highly complimentary of Clark Kent, but also admitted that he seemed to be at all the crime scenes.

"He's always there! I don't know how he does it, but he's always there." The sheriff took a large gulp of coffee. "And he has hunches…"

"Hunches?"

"Yeah, I don't know how he does it, but he's right most of the time." She finished her coffee. "Sometimes I wonder if he's psychic or something."

"Psychic?" William said dubiously. He thought psychics were a load of crap, just attention-seekers who distracted the police from the basic GOYAKOD work – Get Off Your Ass And Knock On Doors.

"Anywhere else, I'd agree with you", the sheriff said . "But this is Smallville…" She got up to go. "I've found out – if Clark Kent has a hunch, go with it – it'll pan out." She looked William in the eye. "If you find out how he does it, let me know."

William's interest was piqued, and after that, he began observing Clark more closely when Clark visited Lex. Unfortunately, Clark's visits soon dried up; one time William had heard a loud argument, and after Clark left, William noticed that both Clark and Lex had all the signs of being in a fistfight. William said nothing, but assumed that the friendship was over.

But William's cop instincts were aroused. Clark didn't appear dangerous; William just got a _feeling _around him. Maybe it was just a collection of subliminal cues adding up; maybe Clark had a drug problem or was a blackmailer (although William felt these were very unlikely); but William just felt there was something hinky about Clark.

He wondered if Lana Lang had had anything to do with the breach between Lex and Clark. Of course, the security staff knew most everything; they knew she had been going out with Clark, had broken up with him, and now was Lex's latest girl. Lex seemed more smitten with her than he'd been with any of his honeys for a long time. William idly wondered if it would come to marriage; he just couldn't see Lex Luthor getting married. His own marriage had been good till Shawanda had gotten into drugs, and a disaster afterwards. Despite having almost a fatherly feeling towards Lex, he certainly wasn't going to give any relationship advice to his boss.

_The job first_, he thought. But he also thought, _Keep an eye on Clark Kent. _


	14. The Package

Martha headed back to her room, tired again. Although she had not had to give a speech that day, she had listened to several, and had been approached by numerous people. Last night she had run into Kansas' other US Senator, and the two had broken down the attendees list, each deciding to concentrate on those they felt would be most sympathetic or those who wanted the most. Cajoling, exhorting, pleading, declaiming – Martha had done it all, from one-on-ones to auditoriums-full, in an attempt to get more business investment in Kansas. She had hopes that some seeds would come to fruition, but knew that in politics, nothing was certain.

She had taken a gleeful, yet hidden, pleasure in putting Chloe at her table as her guest. Chloe had been polite, yet had come away with several interview commitments from various VIP's. Martha wouldn't be sorry to see some of them squirm under Chloe's needle-like questions.

She headed wearily to her room, wanting to rest a short time before she dressed for dinner. A charity ball was planned after their gourmet meal, and she had promised to go with Lionel. Once again, she avoided examining her mixed feelings toward Lionel.

Lex headed back to his room, tired. It had been a long day of cajoling, making veiled threats, buttering people up, memorizing names and faces, all for the good of Luthorcorp. He wanted to rest a short time before he was scheduled to make a speech. The speech had a deliberately bland title. But he intended to stun the audience by announcing the news of the new Luthorcorp technology.

He entered his room, took off his shoes, and sighed as he stretched his feet. As he sat down, his phone rang.

"Yes." He was curt. Why were they disturbing him now?

He listened for a few moments. A cold feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. "Partridge is dead? Stein is in ICU? What about the lab?"

More squawking noises from the other end. This was worse than he thought. He ignored the excuses and justifications from his caller. Pieces fell into place like tumblers in a lock.

_Luthorcorp obviously isn't the only one who wants this technology. _Then, determinedly, _But we're the only ones who are going to get it. _He thought again. _Somebody is prepared to kill for it. And we have to check our computer files. Did Partridge leave a backup? Those genius types never do. I hope that Stein made him keep records – that's why Stein was there. Can we rebuild without Partridge? I wish this had come to my attention before yesterday! _

He closed his phone absently. He followed the train of thought down its path. _We hadn't made any devices lately, or they've been used up. I remember seeing that in the reports. So what if this is the last device? It's a target. I'm a target. Everyone here from Luthorcorp is a target. _Then, with a sinking feeling, _**Lana **is a target. _

He pushed a button. Soon, Lars poked his blond head through the open door. "Mr. Luthor?"

"Lars, I want you to get Miss Lang, and a package I'll give you, back to the Luthorcorp jet at the Pellston Airport. Then have them take her and you back to Metropolis, and put the package in tight security at Luthorcorp HQ."

"Right away, sir." Lex liked that. No questions, just a straight _Yes, sir._ Sometimes he liked it so much he didn't like it when people (_like Clark, for example_, his wayward brain contributed), didn't do exactly what he wanted when he wanted it.

Lars went off to arrange things. Lex called Lana. She came from the conference – he had thought it would be dry as dust, but she was interested in some of the topics.

"Lana! I have to ask you to trust me", Lex said earnestly. Unlike other times, he meant every word of what he was going to say. "I have reason to believe that people want this package." He pointed to the device, hidden in a white box. The box proclaimed itself to be "Fudge From Mackinac Island".

Lana smiled. "They want fudge? They can't just go to one of the twenty-seven fudge shops we saw and buy their own?"

"It's not really fudge, Lana", he said seriously. The smile came off her face. "We're camouflaging a technical device here. I just found out that our researchers on this project were assaulted and seriously injured."

"Are they going to be all right?" she asked.

"I hope so", Lex replied, carefully not saying anything about murder. "But I want to make sure it's safe, and I want to make sure you're safe. That's why I'm asking you to go quietly with Lars, and take this to the Luthorcorp jet on the mainland, and take it back to Metropolis and get it into the secure vault at the Luthorcorp Building."

Lana looked as if she were going to protest. Then she caught a look of his eyes, and subsided. He must have been more intense than he thought.

"OK, Lex", she said slowly.

"Thanks, Lana", he said, sincerely. He pulled out a thick wad of currency from his wallet. "You'll need to rent a car to get from the ferry back to Pellston. Can you put it on your credit card? I don't want to use the Luthorcorp cards."

"Why can't we just fly back to the jet airport?" Lana asked.

"Because the pilot is at least an hour away, maybe two. And I want to get you safe as soon as possible. And as quietly as possible. Flying would attract unwanted attention." He looked at her, desperately. He did love her, as much as he could love anyone. She knew what he was like _(maybe she doesn't know everything_, a niggling little interior voice said), and loved him anyway. In a world of women who were attracted to him only for his money, or power, she was a refreshing change. She had been a friend before she was a lover; he had never had a woman be that before.

"Let me change my shoes, and get a jacket, and I'll be on my way." Lana kissed him, then bustled off.

"Lars!" Lex called. Lars came in. "Are you ready?"

"Ready, Mr. Luthor."

Lana came back in. "Hi, Lars", she said.

"Miss Lang. Are you ready to go?"

"All set. Good-bye, Lex." She kissed him again. He hugged her, not wanting to let her go. _Life is uncertain_, he thought. He sent up a plea to unknown gods for her safety.

As she walked out the door, he had a bad thought. He'd never had much luck with pleas to the gods to save the life of someone he loved.

Chloe came back to Martha's room. Martha had offered her a chance to sit down and relax before Lex's press conference, and Chloe was going to take her up on it. It had been a very busy day; Chloe had enough notes and reminders to write two articles. She had run into Brad and Pete, the other reporters from the Daily Planet; being "upstairs" reporters, they hardly knew her, and she didn't register on their radar.

She couldn't wait to get her shoes off and lie down on the overstuffed chaise longue in Martha's room. If she could only get a fifteen-minute nap, and then a cup of coffee…Her daydreams dissolved in surprise as she saw Lana and one of Lex's hulking security guards (_the blond one – what's his name again? Clark would know)_ coming down the hall at her.

"Lana?" she asked. "What's up?"

"I don't know all the details, but Lex is worried, and wants me and Lars to take this package to the Luthorcorp jet at the Pellston Airport on the mainland." Lana opened her large purse to show a white box amidst her other impedimenta.

Chloe's "weirdar" pinged at the highest setting. "What is it?" she asked casually.

"I don't know", Lana replied. "It's kind of heavy, whatever it is. It feels like I'm carrying a brick."

_Bullseye!_ Chloe exulted silently. "Lana, are you flying back to the airport?"

"No, Lex said that it would take too long to get the pilot and get the plane ready. So we're going to rent a car on the mainland, or get a taxi, and drive to the airport. It won't take long."

Chloe assumed her most helpful expression. "I'll help you if you pay my ferry ticket. Clark and I rented a car, and it's right in the ferry parking lot at St. Ignace. You can avoid all the rental hassle. We just have to stop by my hotel and pick up the keys."

Lana seemed dubious, and looked at Lars. He considered it for a moment, and nodded his head.

"OK", Lana said.

They exited the Grand Hotel. As they walked past the purple lilac bushes, Chloe phoned Clark to update him. "Clark, I ran into Lana and Lars."

"Lars?"

"Yes, Lars. I'm sure you remember Lars. Apparently Lex has asked them to take _a package_ back to Metropolis and Luthorcorp Security." Chloe trusted that Clark was picking up on the significance of the the emphasized words. "I'm going to go with them, and drive them back to the airport in our car."

A moment of silence. "Is this _package_ related to what we discussed yesterday in the meadow?" Clark asked.

"Ah, that would be a yes", Chloe replied.

"Do you want me to come along?" Clark asked, sounding concerned.

"No, right now I think it's more important that you attend the Luthorcorp press conference", Chloe said, cursing the necessity to be circumspect in Lana's presence.

"Are you sure?"

"Very sure. Clark, I'll call you if anything happens." That sounded innocent enough, and only the two of them knew the underlying significance of the words, of help asked for and help delivered.

"OK, Chloe, be careful." He hung up. Chloe caught up with Lana and Lars; they walked faster down the hill.

Lars waited outside her door, Lana inside the room while Chloe quickly changed from her suit to a shirt and jeans more suitable for comfortable travel. It was good to take off her nylons and put on sensible walking socks. On the way out, struck by a sudden idea, Chloe bought a 24-ounce box of fudge. The box looked the same as the one in Lana's purse. She put the fudge into her own bag.

As they boarded the ferry, Lars stood out in his black suit and sunglasses. A six-and-a-half-foot tall, hulking guy exuding a vaguely menacing air tended to give people the willies. A clear zone surrounded Lars, despite the tourist crush. Chloe didn't like the way they were attracting attention, so she motioned to Lars to stay at the back of the boat. She pulled Lana forwards and they sat near the front.


	15. Hostage Situation

Lex headed back to his room, mentally reviewing his plans. With Lana taking the device out of the hotel, he needed a new visual hook when the time came to announce the new technology. He'd been discussing various options with his father during the short break time. He'd left his phone in his room, charging up; he wanted to retrieve it before heading back down to the conference.

He opened his room door and walked in, loosening his tie and heading towards the bathroom. As he passed the door to the next room of the suite, he gasped in shock as a gun barrel was pressed to his ribs. _Sht!_ he thought. _I didn't think this would actually happen. _ Then he stopped the unprofitable recriminations and turned his thoughts to remaining alive.

"Where is it, Mr. Luthor?" a cold voice asked him. Lex looked up to see a dark-suited man with iron-gray hair, looking him straight in the eye. Lex looked around him to see another man who had obviously been checking drawers and desks, but was now backing up the first man, pointing a gun at Lex from a distance. The other man also wore an anonymous-looking business suit. Lex saw that the room was in disarray; obviously they had been searching for some time.

"Where is what?" Lex parried. _Keep them talking_, he thought. His right hand crept to his pocket and surreptitiously pressed a panic button. Although here on the island it was not connected to the police department, it was still connected to Luthorcorp Security, represented at this moment by Lars (surely out of range by now, on the ferry to the mainland), William, and Cyrus.

"Don't play dumb", the man said tightly. He ground the pistol barrel harder into Lex's ribs. "We know that you have nuclear isotopes. We've come to collect them."

"Who are you working for?" Lex asked, ignoring the question. The second man moved closer, but still too far away for Lex to make a move and get both men.

"I ask the questions here. Where is it?" The man pistol-whipped Lex across the face. Blood welled up from a cut in Lex's cheek. Lex grunted involuntarily, then schooled his face to immobility. Long practice with Lionel had taught him to anticipate attacks. He also had learned not to show pain or fear. He slipped into the regular breathing pattern he had learned to control his body reactions. _Controlling a situation starts with controlling yourself. _

"I put it in the hotel safe", he lied. Doubt flickered through the man's eyes. He exchanged a glance with the second man, standing off to the side. Lex did not drop his gaze from the man's. _You may have me now, but I'll remember your face. Then you'll learn what it means to cross a Luthor. _The three men in the room stood tensely, the situation fluid.

The man began to say something, but swallowed his words as a knocking came from the other room of the suite. Lex heard his father's voice. Lionel had knocked only pro forma, and was entering the suite.

"Lex? Are you here? We're running a little late – are you ready yet? Are you still with Lana?" Lionel spoke loudly, trying to get Lex's attention. The patronizing tone of Lionel's voice irritated Lex. He thought that it was as if Lionel assumed Lex was so smitten with Lana that Lex would forget elementary appointments. Lionel came striding confidently into the second room of the suite, then stopped as he noticed the situation. A man stood holding a gun to Lex's ribs. The second man now pointed a gun at Lionel.

To his horror, Lex noticed that Martha Kent had followed his father into the room. She looked at the tableau. Surprise and concern, then fear, crossed her face. She had met Lionel in the hall; he had suggested that they stroll back down to the conference together, that he only had to stop in and get Lex. Now she had walked into a hostage situation.

Martha stared at the tableau, her eyes widening in shock. _It's not the first time Lionel and I have been in a hostage situation_, she thought, her mind flitting from thought to thought. _Just remain calm. Keep calm. Keep calm. _

The man holding the gun to Lex smiled. "Get over here", he said. The second man punctuated the command by gesturing slightly with his gun. Martha and Lionel remained frozen. "Get over here!" the first man said, not louder, but with a gut-wrenching intensity.

Lionel and Martha walked slowly over to Lex. The man withdrew his gun from Lex's ribs, holding it closer to his body. He held all three at bay. Lex and Lionel threw each other a glance; Lex gave an infinitesimal nod, indicating that he had summoned their security. Lex's eyes darted towards Martha; he and Lex had been in tight spots together before, but Martha was an innocent bystander. Despite Lex's distaste for Jonathan Kent, he had never disliked or resented Martha; he did not want Martha harmed. Lionel threw Lex an almost-pleading glance; Lex gave another tiny nod.

"Well, well, witnesses!" the man said, in a horribly jocular tone. He paced back and forth, keeping the gun trained on them. Unfortunately he never interfered with the second man's field of fire; Lex, evaluating possibilities, felt that he could not risk a martial arts move at this time. _Keep him talking; buy time,_ Lex thought.

"I suppose you are the people who raided my lab and killed my researchers", Lex said bitterly. _Try to get him talking; find out more. _ "Why do you think I have the device?"

The man took the bait. "Because you've said that you're going to be announcing major new technology here. Because we've tracked things. Because we know there's stuff unaccounted for. We're very interested in nuclear material. Your guys didn't have it. You must." He punctuated his statements with slight movements of his gun. Martha found herself staring at the end of the barrel, the hole imbued with a dreadful significance. She noticed a flash of red color; it indicated the safety was off.

"How did you hear about it?" Lex asked the first man, as casually as if he were asking the man why he bought a truck versus buying an SUV. Lex sounded insouciant, uncaring; his tone indicated he didn't care that his life was under threat.

"Let's say that we've got connections", the first man said, falling under Lex's spell to the extent of starting a dialogue with him. Then he mentally shook off the spell, saying to the second man, "Search them."

The second man came near and laid his gun on a table out of reach. Always careful to stay out of the first man's field of fire, he gave a quick but thorough pat-down to Martha, Lionel, and Lex. His touch was professional. He walked away, reclaimed his gun, and said, "It's not on them."

The first man gestured them over to some chairs with his gun. They walked slowly to the chairs and sat down.

The first and second men shared a glance. Martha grew concerned; she recognized desperation. _We're inconvenient witnesses_, she realized. _We've seen their faces. _The two men seemed unsure of what to do next.

Then Lex's phone rang.

The second man walked to the table where it lay. Lex, peering over, could see the caller ID indicate "Lana". The second man pressed a button, answering the call, and said "Hello" in a tone very close to Lex's voice.

"Lex?" Lana said, her words quick, not waiting for him to confirm his identity. "Lars said that we'd need a security code to get us into the airport – do you have it?" In the deathly quiet of the room, her voice was clearly audible.

Lex swallowed. _Oh, sht. _ He shared another look with Lionel; Lionel didn't look happy either.

The second man looked at the first and smiled. It was not a nice smile. He gently closed the phone, cutting off Lana's call.

"The girlfriend", he said softly.

The first man said, "Call the team on the mainland."

He said nothing as the second man made a call and talked in a low voice. Lex, Lionel, and Martha waited, sitting in their chairs, the first man continuing to keep them covered. The silence rang in Martha's ears. She felt Lex squirming next to her; the man pointed the gun at him and said, "Stop that." Lex stopped. The second man's phone rang again; he looked at the first man and said, "They've got them."

The first man raised his gun and came a little closer to Martha, Lex, and Lionel, huddled together against the wall.

"I guess we don't need you anymore", he said. He raised his gun to Martha's head.


	16. Clark Has A Plan

Clark paced around the conference area, too worked up to sit down. He hoped that Chloe and Lana were doing ok; using his X-ray vision, he had watched them leave the hotel and walk down the street until they went out of range. He knew Lars was competent; he'd seen him practicing his martial arts moves sometimes when he visited the mansion. He felt better that the girls had Lars with them.

A group of attendees swirled through the hall; the Luthorcorp press conference was scheduled in half an hour. A mix of reporters, executives, salesmen, and politicians came out of a conference hall; they spread, heading for the drink bar, the restroom, or their hotel rooms to take a break.

Lois came striding up to Clark. "Smallville? Do you know where your mother is?"

"Isn't she with you?" Clark began to have a bad feeling.

"She was supposed to be here right now! She's supposed to meet some important people!" Lois fumed.

"Have you tried calling her?" Clark asked.

"Every time I do, her phone just goes to voice mail", Lois said, more seriously.

"Where did you see her last?"

"Right here. She said she'd stop by her room for a quick break, and meet me back here."

"Have you called her room?"

"There's no answer." Lois looked more concerned now, the questions making her realize how unusual Martha's absence was.

"I'll run up and check her room; you stay here and keep calling her in case she's in one of the conference rooms or a restroom or something." Clark turned and walked off, barely keeping himself from running.

As he left the conference area and came into a deserted hallway, he slipped into super-speed and raced up several floors till he came to his mother's suite. "Mom?" he said, knocking at her door. No answer.

The door was locked. He debated breaking the lock. Then, mentally hoping he wasn't going to violate his mother's privacy, he x-rayed her suite. His frown became more intense as he realized the suite was empty.

_Think._ Where would she be? She should be with Lois, mingling and listening and speaking. Then Clark thought, _Lionel. _

He went down the hall to Lionel's suite, X-raying that too. Again, no one was there. A chill went down Clark's spine. He extended his senses to their fullest.

He heard his own heartbeat, mentally matched it and tuned it out. He heard the heartbeat of the maid, three rooms away. She hummed in an annoying tuneless monotone. He continued listening. His mother's heartbeat was familiar. Sometimes, at three o'clock in the morning, he would wake up, not able to sleep, thinking of things he had done and things he had failed to do. When he was younger, he would listen and hear his father's and mother's heartbeats, and would fall back to sleep, feeling safe. After his father became ill, Clark's wakeful periods became longer. He would wake up and listen, at these times fearful that he would hear a skip, a waver in the beat, or worse, no beat at all.

Then his father was gone, and his mother was alone. Now Clark would wake up, (or sometimes he had never gotten to sleep), and would listen, and would hear only her heartbeat. His father's absence, sometimes, was deafening. Sometimes he heard his mother tossing and turning in restless sleep; sometimes he heard her crying softly. He never let her know that he listened. Mostly he heard her heartbeat, steady in sleep. He wanted to grab onto it and keep her safe.

He tuned out other distractions, and then heard his mother. He knew her heartbeat, her breathing. Both were faster than usual. He was near her; she was in Lex's suite. He looked through the walls.

_Oh shit._ He saw Martha, Lionel, and Lex sitting down, a man menacing them. His phone vibrated, startling him. He moved away from Lex's suite and checked the caller ID.

"Oliver", he said.

"Clark? What's going on? Lois told me--" Trust Oliver to know that something was wrong.

"Can you get to Lex's suite right away?" Clark interrupted. He wasn't sure of his plan yet, but it would be good to have backup, especially backup of someone who knew he had special abilities.

Oliver asked no questions, only said, "Yes."

Clark asked, "Are you carrying your gun?"

"No, I didn't think I needed to carry amidst all this security."

Clark sighed. "Then bring something you can throw." He hung up.

Clark went back to the hall outside Lex's suite. He listened again. Proving once again that things could always get worse, he heard the phone conversation.

"The girlfriend has it. You can probably get them as they get off the ferry—"

"Well, if the ferry already landed, look for her!"

"You saw pictures of her when we planned this. And she's probably with a bodyguard." The man on the phone sounded exasperated.

"If she got in a car, get your car!" X-raying through the wall, Clark saw the man on the phone turn to the man with the gun. The phone man muttered, "Idiot."

Suddenly Clark snapped back to awareness of his surroundings. Rapid breathing approached him. He looked – it was Oliver, who held a small but heavy drinking glass in one hand.

"What's the situation?" Oliver asked tensely.

"My mother, Lionel, and Lex are being held hostage!" Clark said, quietly but intensely. He kept part of his attention focused on listening to what was going on in the suite. "There's two men. One of them is keeping a gun on them while they sit in chairs near the window. The other is in the second room of the suite. We need to take them out."

"Hostages? Clark, don't you want to wait for hotel security, the Michigan State Police SWAT team? You know that in a hostage situation, time is on your side." Oliver argued, looking as if he knew he had lost the argument already.

Clark drew breath, ready to answer. Then his phone vibrated. He looked at it – Chloe was calling. _Sorry, Chloe, can't answer now. _He turned back to Oliver.

"From the way they're talking, I don't think we have time here, Oliver", Clark said. "And what's worse – Chloe and Lana are in trouble too, on the mainland. I'm the only one who can help them, but we've got to deal with this first." He felt sick with worry, torn between responsibilities.

He turned to Oliver, all diffidence disappearing, assuming a commanding tone. "Here's the plan: You go around the hall to the other door of the suite. I've got you on speed-dial. When I'm ready to go, I'll call you. I'll bust in this door and I'll open your door, you come in, throw the glass at them, knock one of them down. We'll take their guns, you hold them till the security comes."

Oliver pulled a second and then a third glass from his pockets, and smiled at Clark. "Knock one down?" he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"All right, knock both of them down", Clark said. "I'll give you the guns. You keep the bad guys covered. I'll head to the mainland to take care of Chloe. You stay here and deal with the police. Keep me out of it."

Oliver looked as if he were going to protest, then relaxed, smiled, and said sardonically, "Nice of you to leave me something to do." But he diluted the sarcasm by turning and jogging down the hall to take up his post.

As Oliver turned the corner, he saw William approaching, putting away his phone. William came up to the door of the suite, obviously ready to knock. Oliver pulled him away and said urgently, "Don't! It's a hostage situation!"

William looked at him and removed his arm from Oliver's grip. He reached inside his suitcoat, checking his firearm. Suddenly, subtly, he looked much more dangerous.

"How do you know that, anyway?" William asked, his eyes never leaving Oliver's, assessing his reliability.

"You're Luthorcorp security, aren't you?" Oliver demanded, answering a question with a question, knowing the answer. "And you got an alert?" He figured that was a pretty safe bet, having a panic button himself, and knowing Lex was even more paranoid. The man gave an infinitesimal nod.

No time to explain, and he wouldn't give up Clark's secret anyway. He turned to face William and said forcefully, "I'm going in! Are you going in with me?"

"This is nuts!" William said, reaching for Oliver's arm. "You don't have a vest, you're a civilian, you don't know anything about hostage situations…" he sputtered off, speechless that anyone could actually be such an idiot as to walk into a situation like this.

Oliver moved back. "I'm going in", he said again, in a flat tone. "Are you in or out?" He tensed as his phone vibrated. "Make your decision now."


	17. Chloe and Lana In A Fix

_What a difference carrying a top-secret device makes_, Chloe thought sarcastically as she rode the ferry back to the mainland. When she had come to the island, she was carefree, enjoying the lake breeze and the sunshine. Now the weather was the same, but she spent no time looking at the scenery; she looked instead at her fellow boat passengers. Most appeared harmless, families sunburned and tired after a day on the island, honeymooning couples hugging each other on the bench seats, children falling asleep next to their parents. She looked at the occasional single, wondering if he or she had ulterior motives.

She looked over; Lars was talking to Lana, gesticulating. She saw Lana pull out her phone and press a button. Lana listened for a short time, then closed the phone, saying something to Lars as she did so. Lars looked frustrated.

The rhythmic engine sound changed to a slower pitch as the captain slowed the boat, getting ready to dock. The boat edged up to the pier; the harbor crew caught the ropes and tied them, then extended a ramp. The passengers crowded the narrow stairs that led to the exit deck, carrying their bags and backpacks, stepping on each other's heels in their rush to leave. Lars extended his arms, kept Chloe and Lana from joining the crush.

They walked the short distance to the car in the parking lot. Chloe pulled the car keys from her purse; Lars looked at her and extended his hand.

"Lars…" Chloe said, scoldingly. "You're not on the insurance waiver."

"Miss Sullivan, I've had the driving class", he said firmly. He continued staring at him till she gave up and passed him the keys.

"All right, but if you smash it up, Luthorcorp is paying", Chloe said. Lars just smiled. Then Chloe realized what she said, and muttered to herself, "They can probably afford it."

They got into the small rental sedan. Lana sat in the front passenger seat. Lars extended his seat back to the fullest extent, leaving barely any rear passenger leg room. Chloe sat behind Lana. Lana threw her bag in the seat behind Lars. As Chloe buckled up, she noticed that the white box had come halfway out the bag.

Unable to restrain her curiosity, Chloe pulled the box all the way out Lana's purse. On impulse, she reached into her own bag and pulled out the box of fudge; she put it in Lana's bag. Lars drove out onto the main southbound road, heading towards the Mackinac Bridge. She didn't notice Lars looking alertly in the rear-view mirror as a large black SUV pulled in behind them.

She pulled the device out of the cardboard box. It was exactly as Saul had described; a brick-shaped, gray solid with a large red button on the top horizontal surface. On one end, a small pocket held a thin, complex-looking circuitboard, about the size of a half graham cracker. _This must be the receiver tag_, Chloe thought, pulling it out and running her hands around its edges. She put it back into its slot. The device felt heavy for its size; subconsciously, she expected it to be about as heavy as a brick, but actually it felt much heavier. Chloe hoped that the lead lining hadn't cracked with all the pounding around in Lana's purse; she didn't want to be exposed to radiation, thank you very much.

Chloe felt the sedan speed up as Lars zoomed through a yellow light. The concerned frown on his face grew deeper as the black SUV ran the red light to continue tailing them. There was little he could do to evade; on his right was the harbor and Lake Huron; on his left was the town, on hilly terrain; the road was only two lanes, one north and one south. The land was running out as they headed southwards toward the bridge.

Lars said, "Once we cross the bridge, we'll have some other roads to take and we can lose these people." Lana exchanged a glance with Chloe; neither gave voice to their fear. Chloe pulled out her cell phone and pulled up Clark's number for speed-dial. Then they relaxed as the SUV dropped into the other lane of traffic and passed them. Accelerating, it was soon lost to their view amidst the curves of the coast road.

Lars had to slow down as they approached the toll plaza. Lana looked at the sign, reached into her pocket, and pulled out the exact fare. Lars thrust it at the tollbooth attendant and they drove onto the bridge causeway.

The Saturday evening traffic was sparse compared with that of Friday or Sunday, when the weekend rush of tourists came and went. Lars kept their speed to the legal 35 mph. Despite Chloe's concern, she could not help looking all around, again marveling at the planning, engineering and labor necessary to conceive of and build the bridge.

They approached the first suspension tower. Lars drove in the far right lane, keeping his eyes moving; a steady stream of traffic in the right-center lane next to them, headed south. Lars muttered something under his breath as he saw the black SUV in the right-center lane, slightly ahead of them.

With breathtaking suddenness, and with a total disregard for ordinary sanity, the black SUV pulled into their lane and stopped. Lars braked the car frantically, but the SUV driver had planned well; the stopping distance was too short. Lars and the girls crashed into the rear end of the SUV.

Lars swore. He looked at Lana and Chloe. Their seatbelts had saved them from serious injury, but they were shaken. Chloe looked back at Lars and then at the damage to the front end of their car. The crumpled metal and rising steam told its own story; their transportation was hors de combat. Traffic congealed behind them as they blocked the right lane and gawkers slowed in the right-center lane.

They looked back behind them. They had just passed the small lay-by at the base of the north suspension tower. A ladder went up the tower, obviously for access to the suspension cables. A narrow pathway between the roadway and the bridge railing would allow them to walk, away out of the traffic lanes. Chloe looked back in the traffic scrum; red-and-blue flashing lights told of the arrival of police, but it would obviously be some time before they could get near the accident site.

Lars said, "Miss Lang. Miss Sullivan. Get out and start running back to the toll plaza. There's a police post there. I'll delay whoever they are until the police come." He reached inside his blazer.

Lana said pleadingly, "Lars…"

"It's my job, Miss Lang", he said. He spared them one glance, then looked ahead as the SUV doors opened. "Go now!"

Chloe grabbed the device. No time to put it back in Lana's purse. They opened the passenger side doors and crouched behind them as Lars opened his door and got out, pulling out his gun as he did so. Concealed by the door, her voice muffled by the brisk wind and the traffic noise, she pressed Clark's speed-dial. She heard it ring and ring. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon c'mon!" she said frantically.

The phone went to voice mail. "Hello, you've reached Clark Kent. Leave a message at the tone." She looked at the phone, aghast. _What the hell is he doing? He knows to expect our call!_ Then she collected herself.

"Clark", she said, trying to keep a calm tone in her voice. "We're on the Mackinac Bridge, near the north tower, and someone just smashed into our car, and this would be a good time for you to come, and Lars is trying to delay the bad guys and…" She stood up a little bit, looking through the door window, and looked back at Lars. She looked at Lana and they nodded. They stood up and crouching, walked to the sidewalk next to the bridge railing. Chloe carried her open phone in one hand, the device in the other.

Then she heard a gunshot, the sound curiously far away, carried out to the lake by the stiff breeze. Lars fell down. Chloe gave a little cry. She looked at the phone in her hand as if she'd never seen it before. "They shot Lars", she said in a trembling voice. Tears ran down her face. She closed the phone and slipped it into her pocket. She looked ahead; the police car wasn't far away now.

Lana looked back at her, an expression of horror on her face. Chloe felt it matched her own. "Lars", Lana said.

"We can't help him right now", Chloe said, hating it. "We've got to get to the police." Lana looked at her, nodded. They continued running down the sidewalk. The device swung up and down with Chloe's arm motions as she ran. Unnoticed by either woman, the small receiver tag, loosened by Chloe's previous investigation, fell out of its slot. Caught by the breeze, it wafted up, down, up again, and finally blew over the bridge railing. The air kept it aloft for a short time more, but soon it dropped two hundred feet into Lake Huron. Two black-suited men ran after Chloe and Lana, leaving the ruined cars and Lars' body in the vehicle lane. The traffic jam grew worse.

They reached the lay-by at the base of the north suspension tower. Chloe looked over; a blue police car, stopped in traffic, its lights flashing, sat in the vehicle lane next to the lay-by. They ran to the car and pounded on the window. The troopers inside looked at them in surprise.

The trooper in the passenger seat, a heavy-set, tall man, rolled down the window. "What's this?" he said harshly.

"They're following us – they shot Lars – they're coming--" Chloe gasped, unable to get out a coherent sentence. The trooper (_Moilanen, _it said on his nametag) narrowed his eyes, then caught sight of the two suited men, one brandishing a handgun. He motioned to the girls to move behind the car. He opened the door, opened his holster, and pulled his pistol. "Call for backup", he said tersely to his partner.

Chloe looked at the partner – she was no expert, but had been around law enforcement enough to know that this was a newbie. He looked like he just got out of the academy, she thought. As he turned to the radio, she noticed his name badge read _Zehnder._ He reached for the mike and said some incomprehensible police code numbers, then "shots fired, request backup, near north tower of Mackinac Bridge." Chloe turned behind her – it would be awhile before backup arrived; now the traffic was in a big clot, backed up to the toll plaza, about two miles.

Trooper Moilanen stepped out onto the bridge deck, keeping partly behind the car stopped in front of the police car. Chloe noticed the bridge lights reflecting off his polished shoes, a twilight mist diffusing the reflection. The creases in his blue uniform trousers were razor-sharp, the insignia and badges on his shirt perfectly aligned. He stood solidly, with legs slightly apart, a man confident in his strength, an experienced officer.

"Police! Drop your weapon!" he called out, assuming a firing stance. The two men slowed, stopped. The trooper remained in an alert posture. His partner, Officer Zehnder, opened the door and, standing behind it, assumed a firing stance as well.

Chloe could see the two black-suited men_ (just call them Bad Guy One and Bad Guy Two_, she thought.) Like the trooper and his partner, one was older, one younger. Bad Guy One appeared middle-aged, his temples graying. Chloe almost smiled as she realized Bad Guy Two also looked even younger than the newbie State Police trooper. BG Two looked about seventeen years old. He breathed heavily, his gun at his side, pointing downwards. The situation seemed to be calming, winding down; her breathing slowed.

Suddenly, the younger man lifted his gun and fired two quick shots at Trooper Moilanen. One hit the trooper in the chest and bounced him back; with the eerie clarity of shock, Chloe noticed that there wasn't any blood. _He's probably wearing body armor, _she thought. The second shot hit the trooper in the lower right leg. With concern, Chloe noticed a tiny spray of blood spurting out. _Oh my God, he's hit an artery! _

As soon as Bad Guy Two fired, his compatriot looked at him, total exasperation, then fear, on his face. Later, reflecting on it, Chloe realized that he must be thinking, _Oh shit, the idiot has shot a cop._ An expression of resignation came over Bad Guy One's face _(in for a penny, in for a pound, _Chloe thought) as he too lifted his weapon and fired at the other trooper. The range was short now; the bullet hit Trooper Zehnder in the forehead. Chloe gasped. Officer Zehnder collapsed, his head leaving a blood trail on the glass as it slid down the car window.

Trooper Moilanen, despite his wound, fired back, and Bad Guy Two staggered, his left arm dropping limp at his side. Blood darkened the arm of his suit. He retained his grip on his gun in his right hand.

Bad Guy One advanced, his gun ready. Trooper Moilanen was obviously weakened by blood loss, near unconsciousness. Bad Guy One looked ahead at the trooper, then lifted his head and scanned the area for witnesses. Chloe whimpered as the man looked around and saw them. Then she saw him focus on the device in her hand.


	18. One Hostage Situation Resolved

Martha looked at the gun again. Her eyes narrowed, focusing on the lethal-looking hole at the end of the barrel. The man's hand shook a little, making her nervous. She wanted to live. She'd been in tight situations before and had come out of them, (_thanks to Clark, mostly_, she thought). Would Clark realize her situation in time? _I hope so. I hope so. _

Something about having a gun pointed at you made you re-evaluate your priorities, and re-think what you were doing with your life, she thought. If her life were to end now, she wanted to remember that, on the whole, it had mostly been good. There were plenty of regrets, but there had been good times, and love, lots of love, too. She sat up straighter as she realized that, for all the sorrows, she wouldn't change one thing. Except to wish that Jonathan was here now. _If they shoot me, I'll join you,_ she said to herself, to Jonathan. Somehow it made things easier to bear.

Lex looked at the gun. His mind raced, trying to come up with a plan. Physically disarm the man? No, he would be shot before he got two inches. Could he offer money? Could he tell a story, spin out a tale until security came? His train of thought, usually focused razor sharp, kept going off-track as he glanced over at his father and at Martha Kent. He hadn't thought he cared about either one, but now, in this situation, he realized that he did. It was interesting, he thought – caring about someone made you weak, made it hard to make the tough plans and do the tough things you needed to do.

Lionel looked at the gun. Strangely enough, he didn't feel fear at all. He heard Martha's rapid breathing next to him, and smelled Lex's sweat. He himself breathed slowly, calmly. He realized that he should be frightened, but he wasn't. With a feeling of almost, well, amazement, he realized that he was counting on Clark Kent. He knew – just knew! – that Clark would be there to save the day. _Let's just say I have a feeling_, he thought.

* * *

Clark looked through the suite walls once again. The situation hadn't changed; his mother, Lex, and Lionel still sat in chairs near the window, a man menacing them with a gun. Waiting for Oliver to get in position, and worried about Chloe, Clark took a minute to check his voice mail. It sent chills through him.

"Clark", Chloe said on the voice mail, obviously stressed. "We're on the Mackinac Bridge, near the north tower, and someone just smashed into our car, and this would be a good time for you to come, and Lars is trying to delay the bad guys and…" He heard a gunshot in the background. "They shot Lars", she said, in a trembling voice. The call cut off.

Clark looked through the walls, through the suite, and through the other walls, to the hallway around the corner. He could see that Oliver was in position. Then he saw another figure approach Oliver. "William", he said to himself as he heard the second man's voice. _No time to worry about that now. _

He looked again at the hostages. He pressed Oliver's speed-dial on his phone. Then, with horror, he saw the first man raising a gun to his mother's head. Staring his mother straight in the eye, the man said, "I guess we don't need you anymore now."

Clark put on speed as he never had before. He burst into the room. The door ripped off its hinges. The only thing moving in the room was the bullet headed for his mother's forehead. He caught it, slapped it away. The people in the room remained frozen as he raced to the other door, opening it. Then he took the guns from the hands of the men, and laid them on the floor, out in the open, where it could look as if they had been dislodged from the men's hands.

He got an idea. Mischievously, he moved William to the door that he himself had come in at, moving him from behind Oliver around the corner, to Clark's door. Then he took the drinking glass from Oliver, hit the second man on the head with it, and headed out into the hallway. He slipped back into normal speed.

Oliver came in the room, taking a quick glance, noting that one man was down already. He took the drinking glass and lobbed it at the man who was standing in front of the hostages, hurling it straight as a fastball, and putting all the strength of his powerful musculature into his throw. The glass hit the man on the head, and the man fell to the floor without a sound. Oliver looked again, saw the guns on the floor, and gathered them up.

He saw William at the other door_ (How did Clark do that? But he did!), _ looking confused, but holding his gun and advancing into the room through the broken door. His cop instincts made him say nothing while assessing the situation, despite what must have been an inconceivable event for him.

"Good work", Oliver said to William, mentally laughing at the way Clark set the whole thing up. For a moment, he had a flicker of envy, wanting Clark's powers. Then he just grinned.

William cast a wild glance back at Oliver. He swallowed, looked like he wanted to say something, then didn't. He held his gun a little tighter, walking over to where the first man lay unconscious.

Oliver looked at the hostages. They stared at him, unable to comprehend the rapid change in their situation. Martha Kent murmured, "Oliver?" He went over to help her up.

"Lex? Lionel?" Oliver greeted them. Lex looked at him with no expression.

"Oliver? Why are you here?" Lex said, in a tight voice. Obviously he would have preferred to have been rescued by someone, anyone else.

"Lois was looking for Mrs. Kent", Oliver said. "Since I was coming up to my suite already, I offered to knock on her door. I ran into William in the hallway." All true, if misleading. "I could hear the men threatening you." False; the soundproofing of the hotel room would have kept him from hearing unless the door was open.

Oliver looked at Lionel. Lionel was looking at the room, watching William check the unconscious men for weapons and ID. Lionel frowned; his eyes darted from the door to the men to the drinking glasses on the floor.

"You can really be proud of your security, Lex", Oliver said. "It's not everyone who's brave enough to come into a situation like this." He turned to William. "If you're ever, ah, _tired_ of working for Luthorcorp, I can always find a job for a good man like you." He enjoyed needling Lex. Lex stared at Oliver and said nothing.

He pulled out his phone. "Well, it's time to get the police in here to take care of these guys", he said blithely. He dialed. "They'll be here any minute." He turned to Martha. "Are you OK, Mrs. Kent?" She nodded. It surprised him how calm she was, considering the situation. She looked as if she were deep in thought.

Later on, as the police came to take their statements, Oliver had great fun sticking to the truth as much as possible. "I met Mr. Johnson in the hall. Apparently he had been alerted by Mr. Luthor's panic button. I could hear the captors in the room threatening Mrs. Kent; there was no time to call you. We came in, and threw those drinking glasses at the men. By the grace of God, we were able to stop them before they killed any of their hostages."

He caught Lionel and Martha looking at each other, then turning and looking at him with a speculative expression. He wondered what Lionel knew. He figured that Martha was wondering if Clark was involved (_heck, she probably **knows **he's involved – certainly **I'm** not faster than a speeding bullet)_, but she wouldn't discuss it unless she knew that Oliver knew about Clark. Oliver wasn't going to admit that – that might lead to embarrassing questions about how and why Oliver knew. Oliver stared back at Lionel – _what does he know? _

Lex said little, only saying that he hadn't been watching the doors, that the rescue had happened so fast, he couldn't really remember it, it was all a blur. Martha and Lionel made up for his reticence, though, both eagerly confirming Oliver's account.

William also said little, only agreeing with what Oliver had said. He wondered if he was going crazy. One moment he had been behind Oliver, gesturing, trying to stop him from a suicidal rush. There had been a blur, a quick whooshing noise. The next moment he was around the hall, in the suite, past a door that had been ripped off its hinges, holding his gun, while looking at two unconscious bad guys. Lex, the older Mr. Luthor, and Mrs. Kent were looking at him in gratitude, as if he'd done something.

_Weird. This is weird. And I'm not even in Smallville._ Thoughts rushed through William's head, as he mentally replayed the events over and over. It had turned out OK for him, and OK for the hostages as well. O_ne thing, Clark Kent wasn't there._ Then he stiffened as another thought occurred to him. _But Mrs. Kent was. _He paced around the room. _And let's keep an eye on Mr. Queen now. _

"I'll be wanting to debrief you personally, William", Lex said. They exchanged a glance. Both knew they had more to say to each other.

* * *

Clark waited in the hallway only for a few moments, enough to see that Oliver and William had the situation well in hand. Then he put on the speed again, racing out of the hotel, down the hill, down to the beach. He put on extra effort. Before, when he met Bart Allen, he had been amazed by the other's ability to walk on water. He put a little extra effort in his speed, and walked out onto the lake. It was like skipping stones – if you got just the right angle, then you could make the heavier-than-water stone skim along the surface of the water. He made it a few steps, then fell in.

_Oh well. It was worth a try. _He began swimming with all his might, leaving a foamy trail behind him. The yachts in the marina swayed as his wake sent waves through the harbor. He looked down at his pocket, and sighed. _This won't be doing my phone any good_, he thought, resigned. Fortunately, his watch was waterproof.

He continued his regular strokes, arrowing towards the mighty bridge at a speed no human could match. He didn't think he could climb up the suspension tower from the lake surface without being seen, and that might cause talk. He headed for the northern end of the bridge, near the shore, where piled-up boulders and concrete protected the edges when the bitter winter ice came. He swarmed up the causeway, dislodging small rocks in his haste. He came to the bridge walkway, and sped down towards the northern suspension tower. He could see the glow of the police car lights.


	19. Shots Fired On The Bridge

Chloe saw Bad Guy One yell at Bad Guy Two. The two men began advancing towards her and Lana. She stared at the men approaching, their eyes fixed on the device in her hand. _What to do? _She caught sight of the ladder leading up the suspension tower.

"Climb the ladder!" she shrieked at Lana. _Maybe the wind will mess up their aim,_ she thought frantically. They ran towards the ladder. The green-painted metal was chill in the breeze, despite the sun. Lana grabbed the rungs and began climbing. "Lana!" Chloe called. Lana looked down; Chloe passed her the device, then began climbing for her life. She looked back – Bad Guy One was only about thirty yards away. The younger terrorist lagged back, then sat down suddenly on the concrete, obviously debilitated by his wound. She climbed faster.

Bad Guy One looked indecisive for a moment, then lifted his gun. He obviously intended to shoot them before they could climb high enough, where the device might drop into the lake if they fell off the tower. Chloe swallowed, and looked up. Lana was slower going up the ladder than she hoped; carrying the device slowed her down. Chloe followed, panting in fear. She looked down; they weren't high enough yet; if they fell, it would be onto the concrete bridge decking. She saw the man sight his gun, taking time to aim. He pulled the trigger.

* * *

With a blur and a whoosh, Clark appeared out of nowhere. The bullet bounced off his chest. Chloe gave a sob of relief. Lana looked down, her attention caught by the gunshot. Chloe could see her eyes widen; she heard Lana say in shock, "Clark."

Clark sped into chaos. The flashing lights of the police car in the right lane led him to the scene. Running between the right and right-center lanes, he stopped at the sight of a dead Michigan State trooper collapsed next to the police car. He ran around the front of the car, and saw a wounded trooper lying on the other side of the car. Clark could see blood pooling around the trooper's right leg. The lake breeze sent tiny ripples through the pool.

He took a quick look behind him and saw Chloe and Lana climbing the suspension tower ladder. He looked ahead; there was a man brandishing a gun, aimed at the women. In the clarity of super-speed, he saw the moving bullet headed for Chloe. He stepped into its path.

Getting hit by the bullet momentarily knocked him out of super-speed. The shooter fired again, not yet processing the fact that a man had appeared out of nowhere into his firing path.

"Drop the gun!" Clark shouted. The man looked astounded. He fired again at Clark. Clark let the bullet bounce off him, steadily walking towards the man. Another shot, and another. Clark moved faster, shrugging off the flying projectiles. The man's eyes widened in fear as Clark grabbed the gun from his hand and crushed it. Clark knocked him unconscious.

Up on the ladder, Lana had stopped climbing as she stared at Clark. An expression of concern came on her face as she yelled, "Clark!" Then concern became disbelief, and that mutated into horror. Lana's face paled as she saw the impossible things happening. Chloe, approaching, heard her say, "Oh my God…he's one of _them._" Chloe looked; Lana's hands and legs trembled so violently she feared Lana would fall off the ladder. Lana's breath came in ragged gasps.

"Lana? Are you all right?" Chloe called, trying to keep Lana focused. She felt sorry for Lana. She remembered when she herself had seen Clark "in action" for the first time (_he caught a car, and I freaked out_, she thought). Her fear and horror remained vivid in her memory. _And Lana met up with those rogue Kryptonians who killed all the people_, Chloe recalled. _All she's seen of Kryptonian powers has been death and destruction. She's never known of all the good that Clark has done, all the times he's saved her. _

"Oh my God, oh my God", Lana mumbled. "Clark is one of _them_." Her voice choked on the words. Chloe reached Lana on the ladder, and put a comforting hand on Lana's calf.

* * *

Clark looked down at the unconscious man. Then he ripped the man's pant leg off. _I need a tourniquet for that wounded trooper_, he thought. He sped back to Trooper Moilanen and tied the tourniquet around the trooper's thigh.

He looked back at Lana and Chloe. His stomach fell as he saw Lana's face. He focused his hearing. He could hear Lana say, "Oh my God – Clark is one of _them._" He stood, guts churning. This was not how he wanted Lana to learn his secret. He'd thought of telling her many times, and had, once. It had been a disaster, culminating in his father's death. Of course, the timeline where he told her had been wiped out by the Kryptonian technology that allowed him to re-live the day, and change what happened.

Since then, he had known that he could never tell her. After she told him about the rogue Kryptonians that had touched down during the second meteor shower, he lived in fear that she would discover that he shared their abilities – and their weakness. Clark hoped that she would never see how kryptonite made him weak; she had seen enough, and was smart enough, to put the clues together. _I guess walking through a hailstorm of bullets pretty much outed me in a big way_, he thought sardonically. Then sorrow coursed through him as he realized that Lana would never look at him in the same way again.

He looked more closely at the police car. Of course. The car video camera was still recording. Every bit of his heroic terrorist take-down was immortalized on video. Clark sighed and started to move to the car. At least he could destroy the videotape.

Suddenly a gunshot startled him. _There's another one! I missed him!_, he thought, looking around frantically, mentally kicking himself. He looked up in horror. Chloe was hit. He could see the bloodstain on her chest as her grip on the ladder relaxed and she fell to the bridge decking. She landed, sprawled on the bridge decking, a tangle of arms and legs not moving. Another shot followed.

He slipped into super-speed and ran to the man in the dark suit, sitting on the concrete, partly concealed by Chloe's smashed rental sedan. The man held a gun; caught in the frozen time of super-speed, it looked as if man was falling over, pushed by the gun recoil.

Clark looked up at the path of the bullet; it was traveling towards Lana, higher and farther than he could reach. He ran towards it, hoping to intercept it. He was just a little too slow, a little too late.

With a dreamy inevitability, the bullet hit the device. It exploded through the lead casing. Clark saw a puff of powder come out the hole made by the bullet. It had an evil green color. Mixed with the greenish powder were tiny shattered pieces of what looked like glass. The bullet continued on its path. It plowed into Lana's abdomen. Clark could see the deformation of the skin, the shock wave traveling through her musculature as the bullet decelerated, its 800-feet per second velocity dropping to zero all at once, the hydrostatic shock deforming tissues, destroying organs. A tiny drop of blood appeared on her white blouse.

Clark sped to the ladder. He looked at Chloe, x-raying her. Only yesterday he had marveled at the beat of her heart, the filling of her lungs. Now the heart was still; blood filled the lungs and chest. Pushing away his grief, knowing he would have to deal with it later, he ran to Lana. She was still alive; maybe he could save her.

The greenish plume of kryptonite and radioactive debris emanating from the bullet hole in the lead covering of the device was only slightly larger. Involuntarily he looked at the device using x-ray vision; he _could _see gamma rays. Tiny bursts of light came off the spalling glass fragments, the vitrified radioactive elements, in the dust plume.

The device hung in midair. Lana's hands were starting to unfold; if Clark were in normal speed he would see her collapsing, dropping the device, falling off the ladder. He swarmed up the ladder. He took hold of the device.

Pain! The kryptonite particles settled onto his hand. It felt as if his hand was on fire. Heart pounding, he wrapped the arm holding the device around the ladder rung. With a jolt, he fell out of super-speed. Lana fell into his other arm. He gasped. The kryptonite and isotopes still exuded from the broken device. He lost strength, could feel it running out of him. Nausea churned his guts.

"Clark?" Lana said blurrily. She opened her eyes, looked at him. Then fear came into her face, and she moved in his grip. _She's trying to get away, _Clark thought sadly. The blood spot on her white blouse grew alarmingly larger. Lana took a deep breath, inhaling some of the plume from the broken device. _That's radioactive_, Clark thought in horror. He couldn't hold on much longer. With the clarity that near death brings, he flashed back to his conversation with Chloe.

_They say it neutralizes the radioactivity_, she had said. _They say the kryptonite loses all its radiation and the isotopes complete their decay cycle in seconds, not in thousands of years. _He had scoffed, not believing it, but now hoped against hope that it was true. With the last of his strength, he pulled Lana closer to him. Reaching around her body, reaching for the device, he pressed the red button.


	20. A Second Chance

Computer chips completed their calculations. A power burst shot down the cable leading to the kryptonite and radioactive isotopes, setting off a complex nuclear reaction. In a microsecond, quantum fields formed, irregular in shape. Almost alive, almost intelligent in their complexity, they searched for the receiver tag. Their search was fruitless; the tag had dropped into the lake and was out of range.

The fields swirled, their goal frustrated. They were attracted to the next most complex electromagnetic field nearby. Matching Clark Kent's brain waves, the quantum potentiality used his thoughts, his wishes, as a guide. Created by man, yet infinitely complex and incomprehensible once created, the patch of possibility took its direction from the deeper, truer mind and soul and spirit of the living Kryptonian.

The fields coalesced. _Here. _Clark looked up in surprise; the world turned dark around him.

* * *

Clark stared in surprise. He stood at the causeway of the northern end of the bridge. He was no longer on the ladder, no longer holding Lana. A strange shuddery feeling left his body. The feeling had an eerie familiarity. He mentally searched, trying to recall what had caused this feeling before.

Then he remembered. His eyes widened in shock. He relived the memory of being in the Fortress of Solitude, carrying Lana's body, torn and broken after the car crash that took her life. Jor-El had given him the one crystal that allowed him to turn back time, to relive the day. He had done so. When he used that crystal, and came back to the beginning of that day, he had felt that same shuddery feeling. Now he felt it again. He looked down at his hand; he was still holding the device, still pressing the button.

Clark shook his head in wonder. _Could I have gone back in time again?_ It felt like it. Would it last? Did he need to keep pressing the button on the device for it to last? He dismissed these thoughts after a moment, more concerned with finding out what was happening to Lana and Chloe. But all the same, he kept pressing the button.

He looked ahead, focused his hearing. Traffic noise distracted him. The subtle swaying of the bridge, the slight flexing movements of the steel and cables blown by the lake wind, had to be tuned out. Impatiently he eliminated the noise of boat engines, of lake waves. The toll booth workers, taking bridge fares; the tourists chatting in their cars; the roar of car and truck engines; all had to be filtered out.

He sorted through it all, eliminating the extraneous. Then he heard a man say, "Police! Drop your weapon!" Then he heard a gunshot.

Clark accelerated into super-speed. He ran southwards on the bridge, to the area of the northern suspension tower. He passed Chloe and Lana, who were shielded from the men in black by the police car. Chloe was holding the device. As he ran past, he saw the device _melt_ out of Chloe's hand. It literally dissolved into nothingness. He checked the device in his own hand again; it remained solid.

He saw a police car, one trooper by the driver side door, the other, to the right of the car, dropping out of a firing stance. He saw the slight spray of arterial blood coming from the second trooper's calf. Southwards, ahead, there were two men in black suits, the one he had knocked unconscious, and the other one who had fired the bullet that hit Lana. The older man had his arm lifted; a plume of smoke rose from his gun; he had just fired.

And he saw a bullet heading for the young trooper, on a path that would end in the trooper's death from a bullet in the brain. Clark put on an extra burst of speed that he didn't know he possessed. The bullet moved closer. He leapt, and with the tips of his fingers, just barely deflected it. It missed the trooper by millimeters, headed off into the traffic. Clark took another stride, reached out, and grabbed the bullet in his hand. Then he dropped it onto the bridge decking.

Barely changing directions in time to avoid a crash with a car, Clark ran towards the men in black. The fear and horror were still fresh. Fragmented images of Lana bleeding, of a dead trooper, ran through his mind. _Not this time. _ Somehow he knew he'd been given a second chance.

He remained in super-speed. The men could not perceive him other than as a blur and a dash of wind. He barely restrained himself from using excessive force as he flicked them on the head, knocking them unconscious. He removed their guns from their hands, not gently, sliding them towards the state troopers. Frankly, right now he had a distinct lack of sympathy for the men, and really didn't care if they had a couple of broken fingers.

Clark continued southwards, past the unmoving cars and the frozen tourists. He came by his and Chloe's rental sedan, its front end smashed in. Lars lay on the bridge decking. Clark sped up to him, dropped out of super-speed. Lars was still alive, but in a bad way. Blood dripped out of his mouth as he breathed. Clark felt for a pulse; only his extra sensitivity allowed him to find one, and it was thin, thready, and rapid. Clark looked at Lars with X-rays; a bullet in Lars' chest had bruised and damaged the left lung lobes. The chest cavity was filling up with blood, collapsing the remaining lobes. Lars was literally drowning in his own blood.

Lars suddenly opened his eyes. They widened as he saw Clark, bending over him. "Clark", he whispered. "The girls…" his voice tailed off.

"They're fine. You're going to be fine", Clark reassured Lars, although he himself was unsure. He thought frantically. There was a small hospital in St. Ignace, at the northern terminus of the bridge. But he remembered looking at their roadmap, and seeing the signs, as he and Chloe drove here; the larger hospital, with an emergency room, was in Cheboygan, fifteen miles south along the Lake Huron coastline.

He made a decision. "Let's get you to the hospital", he said to Lars. Clark picked him up. Lars didn't answer; he had fallen unconscious. He needed both arms to carry Lars; mentally crossing his fingers, he set down the device. He put it on the lake side of the bridge railing, partly concealed by a concrete curb, out of ready view.

The world didn't end when he stopped pressing the button; he didn't snap back to holding Lana on the suspension tower ladder, his hand afire from kryptonite dust. He stayed where he was, holding a dying man. For one microsecond he stood still, marveling at the course of events; then he was off.

Literally seconds later he entered the emergency room of the Cheboygan Hospital. "I need some help here!" he shouted, laying Lars on a gurney. "Gunshot wound to the chest!" To the stunned medics in the ER, he had come bursting in through the doors, blood spatters on his jacket and hands.

"Help here!" Clark shouted again, frantic with worry. Then a gray-haired, competent-looking doctor hurried up, looked at Lars, and began shouting orders. The ER staff exploded into activity. Clark saw them begin to rip open IV catheters, fluid bags, chest tubes, surgical packs.

"Sir? Sir?" A tiny woman touched his sleeve. "Could you please come to the desk and tell us some more about what happened?" Clark looked down at the woman. "What's his name?" she asked.

"His name is Lars Gunderson", Clark replied. He looked around, seeing that Lars was in good hands, the medical workers doing all they could. He saw the desperate fluttering of Lars' heartbeat slow down, become more forceful as the nurses pushed IV fluids and plasma into him at shock rates. "Let me go out to my car and I'll get you his insurance information."

The woman let go of his sleeve and smiled. "Thank you, sir", she replied. "I'll be right there at the front desk." Clark smiled back at her, stepped outside, looked around for witnesses, and sped away.

* * *

Chloe and Lana ran. Lars had told them to run to the police post at the toll plaza on the northern mainland. Now Lars had been shot and the bad guys were chasing them. Despite the fear, Chloe felt an eerie sensation of déjà vu.

They reached the lay-by at the base of the north suspension tower. Chloe looked over; a blue police car, stopped in traffic, its lights flashing, sat in the vehicle lane next to the lay-by. They ran to the car and pounded on the window. The troopers inside looked at them in surprise.

The trooper in the passenger seat, a heavy-set, tall man, rolled down the window. "What's this?" he said harshly.

"They're following us – they shot Lars – they're coming--" Chloe gasped, unable to get out a coherent sentence. The trooper (_Moilanen, _it said on his nametag) narrowed his eyes, then caught sight of the two suited men, one brandishing a handgun. He motioned to the girls to move behind the car. He opened the door, opened his holster, and pulled his pistol. "Call for backup", he said tersely to his partner.

Chloe looked at the partner – she was no expert, but had been around law enforcement enough to know that this was a newbie. He looked like he just got out of the academy, she thought. As he turned to the radio, she noticed his name badge read _Zehnder._ He reached for the mike and said some incomprehensible police code numbers, then "shots fired, request backup, near north tower of Mackinac Bridge." Chloe turned behind her – it would be awhile before backup arrived; now the traffic was in a big clot, backed up to the toll plaza, about two miles.

Trooper Moilanen stepped out onto the bridge deck, keeping partly behind the car stopped in front of the police car. Chloe noticed the bridge lights reflecting off his polished shoes, a twilight mist diffusing the reflection. The creases in his blue uniform trousers were razor-sharp, the insignia and badges on his shirt perfectly aligned. He stood solidly, with legs slightly apart, a man confident in his strength, an experienced officer.

"Police! Drop your weapon!" he called out, assuming a firing stance. The two men slowed, stopped. The trooper remained in an alert posture. His partner, Officer Zehnder, opened the door and, standing behind it, assumed a firing stance as well.

Chloe could see the two black-suited men_ (just call them Bad Guy One and Bad Guy Two_, she thought.) Like the trooper and his partner, one was older, one younger. Bad Guy One appeared middle-aged, his temples graying. Chloe almost smiled as she realized Bad Guy Two also looked even younger than the newbie State Police trooper. BG Two looked about seventeen years old. He breathed heavily, his gun at his side, pointing downwards. The situation seemed to be calming, winding down; her breathing slowed.

Suddenly, the younger man lifted his gun and fired two quick shots at Trooper Moilanen. One hit the trooper in the chest and bounced him back; with the eerie clarity of shock, Chloe noticed that there wasn't any blood. _He's probably wearing body armor, _she thought. The second shot hit the trooper in the lower right leg. With concern, Chloe noticed a tiny spray of blood spurting out. _Oh my God, he's hit an artery! _

As soon as Bad Guy Two fired, his compatriot looked at him, total exasperation, then fear, on his face. Later, reflecting on it, Chloe realized that he must be thinking, _Oh shit, the idiot has shot a cop._ An expression of resignation came over Bad Guy One's face _(in for a penny, in for a pound, _Chloe thought) as he too lifted his weapon and aimed at Trooper Zehnder.

Despite the short range, the shot missed. Officer Zehnder flinched away involuntarily. Chloe felt a gust of wind. Then the weirdest thing happened. She held the device in her left hand. She _felt_ it dissolve. She tried to hang on, but it was like trying to hold smoke as it blew away.

Chloe looked at Trooper Zehnder, who was looking around frantically, ducking behind the police car door. His partner was down. He was under fire. He tightened his grip on his gun. He rose from his crouch a little, looking through the car window, sighting for a target. Then he held his fire, casting around, not finding his quarry.

Chloe's heart pounded in her chest; adrenalin surged through her veins. Then she looked ahead. The two men lay on the bridge; they were down. They lay motionless on the bridge decking. The threat was over. With an almost audible _snick_, the pieces in her head came together. "Clark", she said, wonderingly. Softly she repeated, "It was Clark."

Elation bubbled through her. She called to Lana. Then they hurried to Trooper Moilanen to see what they could do for first aid.


	21. On The Bridge Again

Clark sped back to the bridge. He crossed his fingers and sped to where he had picked up Lars. He was in luck; the device had not yet been picked up by police, and sat there on the bridge decking, right where he'd left it. Clark picked it up, and sped northwards to the lay-by near the northern suspension tower.

As Clark rushed by, he saw paramedics attending to the fallen officer Moilanen. Chloe and Lana stood by the base of the suspension tower, being interviewed by another trooper. Southbound traffic was stopped as the police investigated the crime scene. He saw the two black-suited men in handcuffs.

Clark briefly considered dropping out of super-speed, but then dismissed the idea. Everyone seemed to be OK, and everything was under control. He did take a moment to toast the police car video cameras, just in case they'd caught any of his heroics. That might make it hard in court, but he figured that there was plenty of eyewitness testimony. He'd been around enough to know that cops really didn't like people who shot other cops; they wanted to put them away for a long time.

He sped northwards on the bridge, arriving on the mainland, passing through the toll plaza (not paying a toll). He ran down the road a bit; a sign on his right indicated the entrance to "Straits State Park." He considered the sign briefly, then ran down that road.

The state park had clearings for tent and RV camping amidst its forest. Clark found an isolated spot, and put the device high in a tree, in the cranny formed by the main branches. He walked to the park boundary; it bordered the lake. He stood on the beach, enjoying a spectacular view of the Mackinac Bridge, its cables outlined in light as the summer twilight faded. He looked over and saw the ferry from Mackinac Island pull into the dock.

After what he thought was an appropriate amount of time, he sped to the bridge, avoided the tollbooths once again, but then dropped out of superspeed and walked down to where Chloe and Lana waited. He saw them, momentarily not being questioned by police, and waved to them.

"Clark!" Chloe said, approaching the yellow "Police Line – Do Not Cross" tape. She gave him a significant look. He nodded slightly.

"Clark! It's good to see you!" Lana said, coming up slightly after Chloe.

"I got your call. The ferry just got in. I walked here", Clark said, three individually truthful statements that nonetheless were misleading. Concern in his voice, he asked, "Are you ok?"

"Just a little breathless", Lana said. "Have you talked with the police at all?"

"Why?"

"Nobody here will tell us how Lars is doing." She sounded concerned.

"I'll ask", Clark promised.

A state trooper came up. Before he could shoo Clark away, Clark took the initiative and said, "Clark Kent. Ms Sullivan and I are partners at the Daily Planet. Can you tell us how our friend Lars is doing?"

The deputy said, "Last I heard, he was getting out of surgery at the Cheboygan hospital and was doing OK."

How long will you need to have my friends here?" Clark persisted.

The trooper blinked, and said, "Let me check with the lieutenant, but it won't be long now. You've given your statements, Ms Sullivan, Ms Lang?" He looked at Clark. "Mr…ah, Kent, do you have anything to add?"

"Oh, Clark doesn't need to give a statement. He wasn't here", Lana said. "He came to escort us back to the island." Clark and Chloe exchanged a knowing glance.

The trooper walked away, talked with another policeman, and came back. "We've got pretty much all we need. Ms Lang, you're at the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island? Ms Sullivan, at the Murray?"

Lana and Chloe nodded. The deputy continued. "We may need to get another statement tomorrow, but we'll contact you. Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital and get checked out?"

"We're fine", Lana said for both of them. "Clark will take us back." She gave Clark a smile.

A wrecker came by, Chloe's damaged rental car towed forlornly behind. The deputy looked at it, then looked at them. "Let me give you a ride back to the ferry", he said.

After he dropped them off at the ferry dock, Chloe looked at Clark. "There's a tribute to the power of the press", she said, in a satisfied tone. "If it weren't for this Daily Planet ID, we'd still be answering questions."

Then she turned and looked at Lana. "Lars wasn't on the car insurance…."

"I'll take it up with Lex", Lana promised earnestly. They laughed, glad to be alive.

* * *

Clark and the women returned to the Grand Hotel. In the lobby, Lex paced restlessly. He turned and saw them.

"Lana!" An unguarded smile covered his face. He went to Lana; they hugged.

"Clark came to get us", she said semi-accusingly. "You weren't answering your phone."

Lex grimaced, then took her in his arms. "There's a story behind that I'll tell you later", he promised. He looked at Clark. "Thanks, Clark", he said, grudgingly.

"You're welcome, Lex", Clark said, guardedly.

Lex turned back to Lana. "I'm sure you must be tired after all that…" he guided her to the elevators, leaving Clark and Chloe.

"Good night, Clark, Chloe!" Lana said, waving at them as she and Lex entered the elevator.

"Good night", they replied. Chloe faced Clark.

"All right – what _really_ happened there?" she demanded.

"It wasn't good", Clark said. "Can I wait on telling you till after I check on my mom?"

"Your mom?"

"You didn't know this, but she was in a hostage situation just about the same time you were. That's why I didn't answer my phone. You got my voice mail then."

Chloe's mouth opened in an "OOhh" of understanding, momentarily speechless.

They walked up to Martha's room. Apparently the word had been passed, because the security let them go through with no trouble. Clark knocked on his mother's suite door.

She opened it. "Clark!" she said roughly, and reached out to him in a powerful embrace. He hugged her back. "Are you OK?"

"I think I should be asking you that, Mom", he said.

"I'm fine now", she said, leading them back into the room. They sat on the comfortable chairs. "We spent hours giving our statements to the police. Lex and Lionel missed their press conference, and I missed meeting a lot of people I'd counted on."

"I'm just glad you're alive", Clark said quietly.

"And I'm glad you're alive too", she said, looking at Chloe and him. "Lex took a call – apparently one of his men was shot? What was going on?"

"That was Lars. I got him to the hospital in time and he's doing ok", Clark said. Chloe nodded as her suspicions were confirmed.

"Some bad guys were trying to steal the Luthorcorp technology –"

"For the radioactive isotopes?" Martha interjected.

"Yeah. They didn't want to take no for an answer", Clark said seriously.

"They didn't count on Clark Kent being there", Chloe said. She turned to Martha. "Clark saved the day once again."

Martha smiled. "He always does." Clark shifted in his chair, embarrassed.

Chloe stared up at the stars in the evening sky as she and Clark walked back to their hotel. This far north, away from the smog and light pollution of big cities, the Milky Way stood out in resplendent glory. Other stars, normally too dim to see, dotted the firmament between the familiar constellations.

"I have a whole lot of questions for you, Clark. The first one is, where's the device?"

"I have it in a safe place, Chloe."

"Did it work?"

"Not the way I thought it would." He turned to her. "It was really weird…"

She laughed. "You're usually the cause of the weirdness."

"Not this time." They paced on in silence. "Before I can tell you the whole story, I have to take it to Jor-El."

She stopped walking, surprised. "Jor-El?"

Clark stopped too, turned to look at her. "It's something I have to do."

She swallowed, accepted it. "Um…"

"I just want to get you safe to the hotel. Then I'll set out for the Fortress."

Chloe repeated, "The Fortress?"

"It's only sixty miles up to Sault Ste. Marie. I can take the International Bridge over to the border to Canada there. Then it's only a hop, skip, and a jump to the Fortress."

"Yeah, right", she mumbled. Seeing Jor-El – that came out of the blue. In the time she'd known about Jor-El and his relationship to Clark, Clark had never been anxious to see Jor-El. She herself thought of him with wary respect, like being in the same meadow with a mountain lion. Maybe the lion didn't want to eat you today, but…

She resumed walking. This was something that Clark felt he had to do, obviously. "Let me know how it all turns out." Then she thought of her pre-conference research on tourist attractions, and said jokingly, "Take a look at the Soo Locks when you pass by."

* * *

Lex took Lana in his arms. She was shaking. "I was afraid I was never going to see you again", she said quietly. "Those men were chasing us…they shot the policeman….she shivered. "Then it was funny – I don't know if the police shot back, but all of a sudden those guys stopped shooting and they were down on the bridge. The police said they were unconscious."

Lex looked her in the eye. "Lana? Are you OK? That's what I'm concerned about." He held her closer.

"I'm OK, Lex", she said. They held each other in silence for a moment.

"Lana?" he asked softly.

"Yes?"

"What happened to the box I gave you?" He released her from his hold, stood opposite her, his expression serious.

"The box! Lex, I'm sorry. I got so caught up in all the excitement, and worried about Lars, I forgot about it! It was in my bag. Let me see…" Lana furrowed her brow. "I think I left my bag in the car when we were running from the men."

Lex stared into space, mentally making plans and calculations. Maybe he could send William over there to get it…Lars was out. Cyrus was with Lionel. If the last ferry had already left, could William fly over to the mainland?

Lana went on, her voice fast. "I really hadn't thought about it, you know, because I had my wallet in my pocket and there wasn't really anything else in the purse except for the box and some cosmetics and the book I was reading…" Lex tuned her out.

"I'm glad you're OK", he cut her off, kissing her. He turned from her. Time to make some calls.


	22. There's No Such Thing As A Free Lunch

Clark held the device in one hand, enjoying his run through the cool night air. He'd thought about swimming back to the mainland, but decided not to. He took the final evening ferry back to the mainland, then started running. It felt good to stretch his legs.

He wasn't looking forward to the encounter with Jor-El, though. Their relationship had always been rocky, Clark resisting Jor-El's efforts to fit him into some predetermined Kryptonian role. And then there was the whole issue of the training – it had been delayed for years. But now Clark needed to consult with Jor-El; no other person (or artificial intelligence, anyway) could help him understand what had happened on the bridge.

He ran through pine forests, staying to roads when possible, but pushing through the trees when the roads ran out. On the roads, for sheer joy (_his friends were alive!_) he put an extra leap into some of his strides. He laughed a little at what Chloe would think of this - would she think of the old story of seven-league boots?

She had asked him if he could find the Fortress. That would never be a problem. It called to him; he knew where it was, he knew how to find it, no matter his starting point. The initial Kryptonian crystals had called to them; when they fused into the master crystal that was the seed of the Fortress, they had linked to him irrevocably.

He ran over snow; the midnight sun of the Arctic refracted off the ice, sending tiny rainbows up into the air. He realized if Chloe were here (_again!)_ he might be taking her to the hospital for frostbite treatment (_again!_), but he himself was comfortable in his shirtsleeves and jacket.

The Fortress of Solitude loomed ahead; as ever, when approaching it on foot, he stopped a minute to look at it. He was, by his upbringing, human enough to marvel at such a structure. Perhaps erections like the Fortress were common on Krypton; they were still majestic, and well, _alien_, here on Earth. Humans built in concrete, in wood, in steel; they built in ninety-degree angles, corners, and octagons; they did not build in upthrusting, crystalline, isosceles girders.

He entered the Fortress, approached the control panel. He took a deep breath.

"My son", Jor-El's voice reverberated. "You have returned." The AI sounded almost puzzled.

"I need your help", Clark said. He didn't plan on getting into a long discussion about his past whereabouts and future plans – Jor-El would only twist those into his own schemes.

"Today, I changed the past once again." The bald statement, flatly delivered, sent chills through him, as he actually thought about what had happened earlier. "I thought that the crystal you gave me before was the only thing capable of allowing such a thing. But this is human technology."

Jor-El sounded almost startled. "There was only one such crystal, yes." Then he sounded perturbed. "Place the device on the platform in front of you."

A crystalline platform grew out of the Fortress' substance. Clark put the device onto it. The crystals grew up over the device; Clark could see it, but it was muted, misty, diffused. He waited in silence as Jor-El probed at the device.

Random thoughts drifted through his head. Could he go back and change the past again? There were so many mistakes he wished he had not made. He stiffened as an idea came. Would it be possible to go back to that disastrous day when his human father had died? Could he intervene, stop Jonathan's meeting with Lionel Luthor, get Jonathan to the hospital in time? He'd been too late before. It was bitter. Maybe things could be changed?

"Humans have discovered this technology", Jor-El said. Clark heard a note of sadness in his father's voice. "As constructed, this device will allow transport in space, or in time." Jor-El continued. "You have used this device."

Clark nodded. "Yes."

Jor-El's voice was solemn. "Then you have discovered that in using the device, there is a payment that must be made."

"What?" Clark asked cautiously. He'd become very nervous when Jor-El started talking about costs and prices and payments.

"To reshape the flow of time is not lightly done. It calls for much energy."

"There is radioactive material—"

Jor-El cut off Clark. "Not only the physical energy, but the energy of life, is required."

Clark paled in horror.

Jor-El's implacable voice asked him, "Did those around you pay with their lives?"

"Yes", Clark said, his mind spinning. _Chloe was killed, and Lana was shot, and those two policemen, and Lars…"_

"Their lives, their wounds, were the price paid for you to change the past."

"But they're all right now!" Clark protested.

"In this reality, yes; in another reality, perhaps now less probable than the one we now inhabit, they are dead." Jor-El sounded majestic, distant again.

"But when I used the Kryptonian crystal—" Clark ran out of words. _I thought all the time it was because of me – my life had been traded for Lana's, or my father's. Was it just in using the crystal?_

"Our Kryptonian technology avoided this by means of balancing the various fields. Jor-El paused a moment. "Unfortunately, this facility does not possess the capability of re-creating the life-sparing technology. That crystal was the only one of its type in this structure."

Clark nodded, remembering not being able to save his father. _I used my one chance._ He felt, rather than saw, Jor-El considering the device. The humans do not have this ability. This device is primitive. It makes inefficient use of its energy."

"But Chloe told me they researched it and everyone did OK!" Clark said, weakly mustering arguments.

"I do not know the specific humans, but I judge that, if you investigate, you will find that life force has been taken from them as well. Perhaps they used it only for minor things, and paid only a portion of the cost that those around you paid. For everything, there is a price, my son, and a price must be paid."

Clark rallied. "Why didn't I pay? Why wasn't I hurt?"

"My son, you are on this Earth, but not of it." Jor-El's voice was implacable. "Your wishes gave form to the pathway chosen to reverse time, but your life energy is not suitable for the payment. Payment must be made by those around you."

Clark stood silent, grasping the ideas, his mind contemplating what Jor-El had told him. Out of the whirl of thoughts, one thing came clear to him. _My mistakes are in the past and I cannot change them._

"This device is now inoperative. If you use another such, remember the cost of its use." Jor-El's voice echoed off the Fortress girders as the table opened up its crystal prison and released the device from its grasp. Clark picked it up numbly.

"I've got to go back and tell them…" Clark trailed off.

"Good-bye, my son." Jor-El bid him farewell as Clark left the Fortress, speeding back towards those he loved.

* * *

Chloe looked up from her laptop as Clark entered their room. She'd been unable to sleep despite her tiredness, still flashing back to the sheer terror of being chased by gun-wielding maniacs. She had tossed and turned for awhile, then decided to do something. She'd gone to her computer and started composing her story.

"Clark! How about this headline: 'Terror on the Mackinac Bridge.' Yeah, I know, that sounds lame…" she stopped speaking as she looked at him and saw his expression. The dim lighting from the floor lamps spread dramatic shadows across his face.

"Clark?" she asked gently.

"Chloe…I found out more about the device", Clark said quietly.

She made a "go-on" gesture.

"Jor-El told me…" he came to a halt again.

"Clark! Just say it!" Chloe hissed in exasperation.

"What do you remember about what happened on the bridge?" Clark challenged her, looking her straight in the eye.

"Well, we got out of the car, Lars got shot, we ran to the police car, the policeman got shot, and then the men were down, because that's when you came to save the day."

"Chloe, it wasn't like that", Clark said earnestly. "I mean, it wasn't like that the first time around."

"The first time around?" She looked at him warily. She'd learned to accept statements from him that she would laugh out of the room from any other person. "Is this like that time that you proposed to Lana, not that I remember it, and you were predicting what everyone in my office would do?"

Clark nodded. "Because I'd lived that day before." He swallowed. "That happened again. The device caused it."

Chloe looked wide-eyed at the device in his hand. "Clark?"

He sat down on the bed, eyes down to the floor. "The first time, I got there too late." An expression of pain washed over his face. "When I got there, both policemen were shot; the younger one was dead. And you were shot too, and you died." He looked up at her.

"I died?" Chloe couldn't seem to process this. "I died?"

"I saw you laying there on the bridge, bleeding out."

Chloe grimaced at the thought. "Go on", she said, with a sort of sick fascination.

"You and Lana were climbing up the suspension tower ladder, and you got shot and fell off, and then Lana got shot, and the bullet went through the device and it was releasing kryptonite and radioactive isotopes, and I pressed the button."

"Pressed the button?"

"I didn't know what else to do. And I was wishing, wishing real hard, that this hadn't happened. And after I pressed the button, um, I went back in time, and this time I was able to save you."

Chloe sat down next to him and clasped his hand. "Thank you for that. Thank you."

They sat in silence for a moment. Then Chloe said, musingly, "Did you run past me on the bridge?"

Clark nodded.

"And you were carrying the device?"

Clark nodded again.

"Clark, the weirdest thing happened. I was holding it. Then it just…_dissolved_…in my hand. I've never felt anything like that."

Clark sat still a moment, thinking. "Dissolved?"

Chloe nodded in turn.

"I think I have an idea." A pensive expression crossed Clark's face. "I had it. I was holding it. We'd gone back in time. It was used up. Maybe it's the universe trying to prevent a paradox or something – you can't have two of the same thing present at the same time."

Chloe considered this for a moment. "Sounds 'Twilight-Zonish', but I certainly don't have any better theories." Then, gazing at him again, she picked up on subtle signs of agitation in his demeanor. "Why are you so freaked out? I mean, it's, um, _unusual_ to go back in time, but it's not like you haven't done it before."

Clark said, "I know. I was thinking, if the device does this, maybe I could go back in time and save my father."

"Oh, Clark", Chloe said softly.

"But Jor-El told me that using this device requires life energy."

"Life energy?"

"You died, and the policemen, and Lars, to allow me to go back in time and save you."

"Clark, that's a little complex. I mean, we're not dead now. It's a paradox", Chloe pointed out.

"Jor-El said that in some alternate world, all of you were dead."

"Oh." Chloe sat back, contemplating this. She didn't really want to think about that.

"Do you know who the researchers were on this?" Clark asked. "Jor-El seemed to think that they've paid some life energy too."

Chloe paled as she remembered Oliver's news from that morning. "I do know, Clark. And they were shot. One of them is dead and the other is seriously wounded." Somehow this made Clark's story more believable to her. Face it, although she knew Clark wouldn't lie, his story was so fantastic she had a hard time accepting it. But the shooting of Saul Stein and _who? The other guy_ was all too real.

She looked at the device on the dresser as if it were a cobra. "It's cursed", she said, surprising herself. Clark looked up.

"Yes, it is", he said softly in agreement.


	23. Tidying Up Loose Ends

Lex came down to the breakfast buffet in a foul mood. He'd been up half the night, coordinating the retrieval of Lana's purse from the crashed car. He'd been unable to leave the island – the last ferry had left by the time he thought about it, and his pilot, not expecting to be called upon, had hoisted a few beers in the local pub – but the ever-resourceful William had prevailed upon a private yacht owner at the marina to take him to the mainland. William had then used his police experience to get to the car, search it and get Lana's bag from the back seat. He'd boated back to the island, brought the bag to Lex in the hotel, and had politely left when Lex thanked him.

Lex had opened the bag with anticipation. There was a white box inside. He pulled it out and opened it. He swore.

"Fudge!"

The odor of 24 ounces of chocolate-maple fudge filled the room.

"Fudge." Now Lex had little appetite for the breakfast buffet. He stared at the crème brulee French toast in disfavor. Then he turned as he heard his name.

"Lex?"

His eyes widened as he saw Chloe. "Chloe? What are you doing here?" he blurted out.

"Lex. I'm glad I met you here. That box you gave Lana…"

"Yes?"

"I was carrying it when the men were chasing us, and I put it in my bag, and I forgot about it till this morning. I wanted to give it back to you to keep it safe, you've got the security…" Chloe enjoyed sounding flustered.

She looked at Lex's eyes. He couldn't disguise the brief glint of avarice as she handed a white box over to him. It felt heavier than the fudge had. He opened the box and gave a little smile as he saw the device.

"Of course, now that I'm here, I figure you owe me breakfast and an interview", Chloe said, pushing her luck. "What's this whole thing about, anyway?" She looked around. "Lana not with you for breakfast?"

Lex gave her an even stare, obviously weighing his rejoinder, then said smoothly, "Lana is sleeping in." He looked at the omelet station. "I'm grateful to you, Chloe. Of course I'd like to have you for breakfast." _Literally or figuratively? You can take that any way you'd like._

"Thanks, Lex", she said. She filled up at the buffet, following Lex. They took a table, and she opened her notebook, managing to juggle pen and fork at the same time.

"So, what's all the excitement about, Lex? What is that thing?" _And do you know that I already know all about it? I hope not. _

"Well, Chloe, it's like this…" she listened in interest as he spun her a farrago of lies. _I wonder what he'll think when he finds out that Clark has reduced the insides of this device to a pile of slag._

* * *

Clark milled around the conference area, his media badge giving him protective coloration amidst the other reporters. He wasn't really sure where to go now. He did want to talk to Oliver, and also felt that he should make at least a token effort to do some actual reporting.

A voice startled him. "Clark!"

He turned; Lionel Luthor greeted him, pulled him aside to an unused, empty room. Curious eyes followed their path.

"Clark, I'm glad to see you." Lionel assumed an air of bonhomie. "I'd like to thank you for what you did for us yesterday."

"Yesterday?" Clark parroted. He assumed a dumb expression.

Lionel stared at Clark for a moment. "I mean, thank you what you did for Lars. He's a good worker." Lionel paused, and went on. "William tells me that if he hadn't made it to the hospital when he did, he would have died." He said smoothly, "You'll be glad to hear that Lars is doing well now."

Clark stared into Lionel's eyes. _What to say? How much does he know?_ He settled for, "I'm glad to hear that." He extracted himself from Lionel's grasp and went out into the hallway again.

Lionel looked at Clark, departing. Clark hadn't said much, but Lionel was a master at hearing the unspoken word. He pulled out his phone, and made contact.

"The emergency room video feeds at Cheboygan Hospital from 6 pm to midnight – I want them, and I don't want anyone else to have them." Lionel put away his phone. _I'm still keeping our deal, Jor-El._

* * *

Martha rose to respond to the knocking at her door. She looked through the peephole, then opened the door.

"Lana! Good to see you!" she exclaimed, ushering Lana into the room.

"Mrs. Kent. I wanted to talk with you before we go." Lana said.

"Of course, Lana", Martha said, shoving aside the half-packed suitcase to sit on the bed next to Lana.

"Um…when Chloe and I were on the bridge, I just wanted to say…Clark came to get us and I really felt good about seeing him then."

"And?" Martha couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I know we've had our differences, but I was hoping you could tell Clark…tell him…I still want to be friends." Lana swallowed. "I guess I should tell him myself, but it's still kind of hard…"

"Of course I'll tell him, Lana", Martha said, reaching over and hugging Lana. "Life's too short to turn away friends."

"Thanks a lot", Lana murmured. They both looked up as a knock at the door split the silence.

"Chloe!" said Martha, looking through the peephole. "Come in!"

"I wanted to talk with you, Mrs. Kent", Chloe said, then saw Lana. "Hey, Lana. Are you OK?"

"I'm fine, Chloe", Lana said, smiling. "Just to let you know - I talked with Lex. The rental car people are all settled and you don't have to worry about it."

"Thanks, Lana. I really didn't have the money to cover it…" Chloe smiled. "Have you heard how Lars is doing?" She liked Lars.

"William went to visit him and said that he's still in ICU, but they expect him to improve. They think they might be able to transfer him to Metropolis General in a week or so. They'll probably have to do some followup surgery there when he's better."

"I'm glad it worked out all right."

Lana nodded in agreement, then got up from her seat. "Mrs. Kent, thank you. I've got to go and finish packing…"

"Thanks for stopping by, Lana", Martha said warmly. She hugged Lana as the latter left the room, then turned back to Chloe.

"Mrs. Kent. Clark told me you were in a hostage situation…" Chloe probed.

An expression of concern came over Martha's face. "I'd like to forget that…" Then with resolution, she said, "Yes. I thought I was going to die. The man fired a bullet at me. I didn't get hit, and I assumed it was Clark. But he didn't come in."

"Who did?"

"William – you know William, of Luthorcorp Security?" Chloe nodded.

"And Oliver Queen was there, too – he didn't have a gun, but he came in anyway, and knocked the man unconscious by throwing a drinking glass at him."

Chloe looked up in surprise. "Oliver?"

"I didn't think he had it in him. I thought he was just a rich playboy. It just goes to show you, you never know about people", Martha mused. "Then later on I heard about you and Lana and Lars on the bridge, and I realized that Clark must have been there."

"He was." Chloe was lost in thought.

"Well, Chloe, I've got to pack, we're leaving in twenty minutes…" Martha gently ushered her out the door.

* * *

Later, as the Luthorcorp private jet arrowed its way back to Metropolis, Lex sat back in his seat, taking a well-deserved drink.

"Lex?" Martha Kent's voice disturbed his reverie.

"Mrs. Kent?" he replied.

"Do you know who those people were, that were threatening us?"

"I don't right now, but I've got contacts in the police departments, and William is back there investigating. I think we'll know something about them soon."

"They'll find it doesn't pay to interfere with a Luthor", Lionel chimed in quietly.

"Yes", Lex agreed, a predatory smile illuminating his face, making him look extraordinarily like his father for a moment.

"William?" Martha asked.

"Yes, he's a good detective. He'll be getting copies of the bridge video, the witness statements, things like that." Lex glanced sharply at Martha. She sat back in her seat, apparently in deep thought.

* * *

Chloe walked back through the streets to her hotel, climbing wearily up the stairs to their room. It had been a long day, made worse by her lack of sleep the night before. She entered the room, and fell down on the bed, exhausted. She flipped off her shoes, not caring where they landed on the floor.

Ten minutes later, Clark walked in. "Tired?" he asked, loosening his tie.

"Exhausted. How about you?"

"I'm fine", he said, embarrassed.

"You would be."

He was saved from the necessity of further comment by the ringing of his phone. "Gotta go downstairs", he said, and left the room before she could ask him who called.

Clark came to the lobby of their hotel. Oliver Queen walked up, shook his hand.

"Good work, there, Clark", he said briskly. "I heard that the bridge terrorists were found unconscious, and Chloe and Lana are OK."

Clark shifted a little, uncomfortable at the open praise. "Thanks for doing what you did, too", he said.

"No problem!" Oliver said. He looked around – no one was in earshot. He lowered his voice. "Us guys with double identities – we've got to stick together!" He gave a sardonic grin.

Clark looked away. "Where's Lois?"

"Shopping." The rueful tone in Oliver's voice clued Clark in.

"You didn't let her use your credit card, did you?" he said incredulously.

"It's amazing how that woman can shop", Oliver said, avoiding the question. "I think it's a good thing the hotel arranges shipping of purchases." Clark just shook his head.

Oliver continued. "Actually, Clark, I was wondering…"

"What?"

"Well, I heard that your rental car is out of commission, and it's Sunday, and no rental places are open, so I was wondering if you and Chloe would like a ride back to Metropolis on the Queen Industries jet with myself and Lois." His voice assumed a more sarcastic tone. "And I notice that Lex didn't offer you a ride back."

Clark said slowly, "That would be good." He'd been a little worried about that. Chloe had to get back to the Daily Planet, and he wasn't sure if the hired hands would stay past the time they'd been contracted for. Of course, he could super-speed Chloe and himself home, but it would be uncomfortable, carrying Chloe and the luggage too, and more importantly, it might give rise to awkward questions. "Let me check with Chloe."

"If you're going to do it, call me, and I'll arrange a luggage pickup." Oliver turned away, looking out the window. "I think I see Lois!"

Clark went back upstairs to their room, and asked Chloe.

"Great!" she said. Obviously she'd been having the same thoughts as Clark. "Let's just pack up here."

"Let me", Clark said.

"Well, OK", Chloe said. "Let me change into some more comfortable traveling clothes first." She did so, then looked on in fascination as Clark blurred around the room for a second. Then their bags were lined up neatly near the door.

"I always get a kick out of seeing you do that – or not seeing you do that", she said. "Tell me, do you do windows?"


	24. Back Home

Chloe and Clark sat in luxury in Oliver's jet as he piloted it back to Metropolis. Lois had taken six Dramamine tablets and was sleeping a few seats behind them. Clark felt a little tired, too, and sat quietly, eyes closed. He roused at Chloe's gasp.

She was working on her computer, writing stories. Apparently she'd taken a break to check her e-mail.

"Clark..." she said wobbily.

"What?"

"Come here and look at this."

He came over and stared at her screen; then, glancing at her for permission, took the laptop to his own seat. He viewed several screens, then flipped through the pages faster and faster, his face becoming more serious as he did so.

"Can you believe it?" Chloe asked.

"If this is true…." Clark said, his voice hushed.

"Lex is keeping people prisoner, doing human experimentation!" Chloe exclaimed.

"How could Lex do something like this?" Clark said, softly, inwardly mourning the death of the man he thought he once knew.

"He's always been curious…now he's just taking it to a whole new level, no pun intended", said Chloe.

"How reliable is your source on this?" Clark asked, hoping the data were false.

"Very reliable", Chloe said flatly. "Clark, I really think this information is true." They stared at each other for a moment.

"If you're right…" Clark trailed off. After a long silence, he said, "This Level 33.1 – we have to do something about it." Chloe nodded in agreement.

* * *

The plane landed at Metropolis International. A limo met Oliver and his guests.

"We'll go to my penthouse", said Oliver. "Chloe, if you'll help me get Lois situated…"

"Of course."

"Then the limo will take you where you want to go."

They rode in silence. Clark and Chloe had discussed her findings throughout the plane ride, and hadn't come to a decision. Clark wanted to confide in Oliver; Chloe couldn't see why, and was concerned about possible exposure of her source.

They debarked at Oliver's penthouse, and rode the elevator. Oliver seemed taller and happier as he walked in the door; he took a deep breath and looked around, obviously enjoying the (to Chloe) stark, postmodern décor.

"Would you like a glass of water, or something to drink?" Oliver said, playing host. "The washroom is down the hall."

Chloe looked at the family crest on the window. She stood stock-still as things came together. _Oliver was the Green Arrow!_ That explained so many things. Clark's reticence. How the Green Arrow could afford the expensive titanium alloy arrows. How he had familiarity with the homes of some of Metropolis' most rich and famous. Why Clark had let him assist with the hostage rescue operation, when she knew that Clark would be using his abilities. Why Oliver had insisted that she take Clark along as a bodyguard. Why Clark wanted to confide in him now.

She remembered what she had told Clark that day when she had taken pictures of the crest on the Green Arrow's ring and he had deleted her files. She had deduced from his actions, and had said to Clark, "_You know who he is! And he knows who you are!" _

"Um, yes…I have to use the bathroom", Chloe said weakly, and walked down the hall, hiding evidence of her revelation.

"Are you OK, Chloe?" Lois said, coming out of the bathroom. "You look a little ill."

"I'm just a little tired, Lois", she said, pasting a smile on her face. She went into the bathroom and locked the door. She sat down, shaking, as she assimilated the new idea. It wasn't as shocking as it had been when she saw Clark use his powers overtly for the first time, but it was still a difficult moment. She came to a decision.

Chloe came out, walked back to the main room, and gave Clark a Significant Glance. "Oliver, thanks so much for the ride back. It was great." She swallowed. "You asked me if I had any information for you."

He nodded and looked eager.

"I do have a lot of stuff that to tell you, but I have to get it all organized first. Can I meet you back here in three days?"

Oliver looked disappointed momentarily, but then smoothed over his expression into a bland smile. "Of course."

"Clark and I have to be going now", Chloe said, turning to Clark and giving him another Significant Glance.

"What's your rush, Smallville?" Lois interjected.

"I've got stories to write, and Clark has to get home to the farm…" Chloe answered for him.

"The limo is waiting", Oliver said.

Chloe mentally debated taking the limo, then decided it would look odd if she didn't. "OK", she said. "Let's go, Clark."

With no protest, he followed her down to the street, where they got into the limo. Chloe told the driver to deliver them to the Daily Planet building; it didn't take long.

They exited the limo at the Daily Planet door.

"Clark! Walk with me!" Chloe said, her tone allowing no contradiction. He looked at her, nodded, and fell into step with her brisk stride.

"Oliver is the Green Arrow", she said flatly.

He remained silent for a moment. Then he said, "I knew you'd figure it out." He sighed. "We've kind of got the mutual silence pact. Can I ask you to keep it quiet?"

"Well, I won't deny it would be a Pulitzer-winning story…" she said, teasing him momentarily. "Clark, of course I'll keep it quiet. I told you I would never betray you. If I told about him, information about you might get out."

Silence a moment. "Chloe, when you found out about me, I said you were a good friend. You've proved it again."

The niggling itch of an unscratched story idea drowned under the sincerity of the compliment. She sighed, mentally resigning herself to one more secret amidst the many she kept.

"What does he know about you?" she asked Clark.

"He's seen me use pretty much all of my abilities", Clark replied.

"Does he know about the whole E.T. thing?"

"I don't think so."

"Can we trust him with this information about Lex and Level 33.1?" she said, stopping her walk, turning to face Clark, looking him directly in the eye.

He looked back at her, his expression as serious as hers. "I think so." He resumed walking. "And it might be good to have him on our side."

* * *

They walked to Metropolis General Hospital. Chloe checked in at the front desk. "Visitor for Saul Stein."

"Room 2157." The blue-uniformed volunteer at the desk seemed a little frazzled; maybe the screaming pair of toddlers busy running through the lobby, wore on her nerves.

They headed for his room. Chloe knocked, entered. She was shocked at the change in his appearance. Saul looked ten years older. Bags of fluids hung on poles, their lines going through pumps, terminating at catheters in his arms. A urine collection bag hung on the end of the bed; monitors traced vital signs, repeating their traces over and over.

"Saul?" she asked slowly.

His eyes opened; despite his morphine drip, he seemed coherent. "Chloe?"

"How are you?" she said, then mentally castigated herself for such a stupid opening.

"Coming along", he said, managing a weak smile. He reached out for her hand, only managing to lift his own hand a little bit. The smile left his face. "Did you get my e-mail?"

She grasped his hand, held it close. "Yes." The tone of her voice told him that she took it as seriously as he did.

"You have to do something about it!" he said, weakly. "I can't anymore." He seemed ashamed.

"We will do something. I promise", she said. He looked in her eyes, seemed satisfied at what he saw. His hand fell back to the bed.

"Saul…" she continued. "There's one more thing…"

"What?"

"I hate to bring it up now but I have to. That device that you and

Don were working on…"

"What?"

"Can you make more of those? Can Luthorcorp make more of them?"

Saul opened his eyes, stared at her for a moment. "I don't think so. I deleted all the information about it. Don was the one with all the ideas. Now he's gone…" Pain washed over his face.

She sat silent a moment, respecting his loss.

"They could reverse-engineer the one that Lex Luthor took…" Saul continued.

"I don't think that will happen", Chloe said. A tinge of satisfaction in her tone made him look at her curiously. "Trust me, Saul, it's better left buried."

A glimmer of the old curiosity that had made him successful. "Why?"

She sighed, looked around, then looked him in the eye. "Let's just say that it costs too much." Her steady gaze convinced him.

* * *

Lex Luthor sat in his office looking at a file. William sat across from his desk. "The men?" he asked.

William replied, "So far, they're asserting their constitutional right to remain silent." He gave a cynical smile. "We haven't found out anything yet about who sent them. We'll keep on looking."

"And the other?" asked Lex.

"Here's what I've found so far, sir", William said. "You asked me to look at the events, and also look at what Clark Kent was doing." He sat back, knowing that he'd done the research, but also knowing the research proved nothing.

"You said that you were taken hostage about 7:15 pm. I got the call at that time. It took me some time to find you. I came to your room and met Mr. Queen there about 7:30. When I entered the room about 7:32, the men were down."

Lex looked up at this odd phrasing, but said nothing.

"Miss Lang, Lars, and Miss Sullivan took the 7:00 ferry to St. Ignace. I have video of them getting on the ferry." William pointed to a photo in the file. "The time of their…problem…is not clearly defined. I do know that one of the policemen called for backup at 7:35 pm."

"Isn't there bridge video?" Lex asked. He knew for a fact that the bridge had video surveillance at all times.

"Yes, there usually is. But at the time of interest, it's…weird."

"Weird?" Again, a word that Lex Luthor didn't often hear from William, the cop who'd seen everything.

"The video is a blur; it just fogs out."

"Is it weather?"

"No, the weather was bright and sunny that day. There really is no reason for the video to be blurred. It just is."

"And Lars?"

"Lars was taken to the emergency room at the Cheboygan Hospital at 7:50 pm."

"Who brought him in?"

"Nobody seems to know. The ER personnel all assumed it was an ambulance, but none of the ambulance drivers took him."

"So who took him?"

"Good question."

"Video?" Lex queried.

William sounded frustrated. "It's missing. The emergency room video from 6 pm to midnight that day is missing."

Lex leaned back in his chair. "And Clark Kent?"

William turned to another page in the file. "We have video from the conference area. He was there at 7:15 pm. He went down the hall, presumably to the men's room. After that we don't see him on video."

"I know he met Lana on the mainland. Can we tell when he got on the ferry?"

"It must have been the 7:30, 8:00, or 8:30 ferry, because Miss Lang said he met her about 9:00, or thereabouts. She wasn't exactly sure as to the time."

"Ferry video?"

"We don't see him on any of the video that we have."

"That you have?"

"There are three ferry companies servicing the island. One of them had a malfunction that morning, and they don't have any video for all of that day."

"So Clark may have taken that ferry."

"It's possible." The two men shared a look.

Lex sat forward. "There's no proof of anything here." He closed the file. "We all came out of it OK." Another look at William. "All the same, William, I want you to keep an eye on Clark Kent."

"Yes, Mr. Luthor."

* * *

"Sullivan!" Pauline Kahn called. "What do you have?" Her tone of voice indicated she thought that sending Chloe had been a waste, that there was no way Chloe would have a story.

"Right here, Ms Kahn", Chloe said, pulling out her hard copy.

"Hmm…interview with Oliver Queen; interview with chairman of General Technologies; interview with Lex Luthor – how'd you get that?" The editor sounded surprised.

"I…got the opportunity", Chloe said. She continued, "Here's the piece about the new technologies discussed at the conference, what their probable effect may be, financial ramifications…" she piled the hardcopy into Kahn's hands.

Pauline Kahn looked flabbergasted, as if the sky were raining soup. Then she rallied. "Where's the article on the new Luthorcorp technology that you were so hot about?"

Chloe looked down. "Luthorcorp didn't introduce it after all."

Kahn walked away, holding the stories. "I'll be reviewing these." Chloe watched her walk away without apprehension. She knew she'd done good work.

The interviews, with Chloe's byline, appeared in the Daily Planet over the next three days.

* * *

Clark and Chloe met on the street before Oliver's penthouse.

"Are you ready?" Clark asked her.

"It's hard." She looked him in the eye. "Clark, do you trust him?"

Clark seemed to be wrestling with himself. "I don't always agree with his methods", he said slowly, "but I do think he's on the side of the angels."

"Should I tell him that I know?"

Clark laughed. "Why don't you do what you did with me – drop pointed hints and keep him guessing over the next few months? Let him be the one to ask himself, 'What does she know?'"

She smiled, remembering their careful dance at that time, each concealing their secrets from the other. "I guess I can do that", she said.

* * *

"This is insane!" Oliver said. He'd reviewed Chloe's files on Level 33.1. "It's more than insane, it's evil." He paced around the room. Then he turned and faced Chloe.

"Can you print this?" he asked.

"No. I don't have any other proof. My source is the only basis for this information."

"Do you think this is some elaborate hoax?" Oliver asked.

"I trust my source."

He gave Chloe a look. "Your source is Saul Stein, isn't it?" he asked her outright.

She tried to maintain a poker face, knowing she was failing miserably, not having expected him to figure that out. "I can neither confirm nor deny that", she said. It sounded weak even to her.

"Never mind." Oliver seemed lost in thought. "I think it's better if Saul dies in the hospital—"

"_What_?" Chloe said.

"No, no, not what you think", Oliver reassured her. "Reviewing this, I think there's a pretty good chance that he's on Luthorcorp's bad list. I think it's time to use my influence to get him a new identity. Saul Stein will be listed as having had a relapse and dying."

Chloe was speechless. Clark stirred. "Sounds like a good idea to me", he said. "Very few people can survive being on that Luthorcorp list." He looked at Oliver and smiled. "We're not all billionaires."

Oliver smiled back. "Let's just say it'll take some special talents to survive." He turned back, looked at the computer files once more, his tone more serious now. "I'll help you in whatever way you need."

* * *

Clark sat in his loft, enjoying the sunset. Chloe called to him as she walked up the stairs.

"Hey, Clark."

"Chloe." Both relaxed, happy to be in company with the other. She sat on his couch, silent for a moment.

"Did you think all that was going to happen?" she asked him.

"What? Missing Seashell City and the Giant Man-Eating Clam?"

"Yeah, that was too bad that we missed it…" Chloe looked nostalgic for a moment.

Clark continued. "Let's see. Escorting you to an apparently innocuous conference where I ended up saving my mom from a hostage situation; saving you and Lana—"

"And Lars. Don't forget Lars."

"How's he doing?"

"I heard he was getting out of the hospital today. He'll be on recovery for another two months, then back on rehab and light duty for a year."

"That's a long time."

"He almost died." They shared a glance, remembering that frightening time on the bridge.

"Finding out about the new technology, but then finding out we can never use it---"

"And Luthorcorp can't use it either; they lost everyone that knew how to make it and everything that told them how." Chloe stretched her legs. "Just think of yourself as Frodo Baggins throwing the One Ring into the fires of Mount Doom."

Clark smiled as he considered the analogy. Then the smile left his face. "And finding out that Lex Luthor has done some things that I never thought even he would do."

She turned serious too. "It's scary, isn't it? What he's doing on Level 33.1?"

"Chloe, we have to do something about that." He sat down next to her. "Oliver is in with us. Let me tell you. We've got a plan---"

The End


End file.
